Duty First: Rise of a God
by A Samhildanach
Summary: Aedan Cousland, noble, expert student of the sword, and possessor of a mysterious strength. Daylen Amell, senior enchanter, researcher of the fade, and master of the Spirit school of magic. Lyna Mahariel, Dalish hunter; Morrigan, swamp witch; Alistair, royal bastard; Sten, Beresaad. The Heroes of the Fifth vanished after the Blight ended. But before that: this is their Origin.
1. Chapter 1

**Note from the author: If you're reading this because you're a fan of my pjo stories, then I'm glad you're here, but I'm very sorry, and I hope you've played Dragon Age:Origins.**

 **Why am I these things? Well, I'm glad you like my writing enough to check out a different fandom, so I'm glad you're here. I'm very sorry that I haven't updated in so long but I'm starting a new story in a new fandom. (To be clear, not abandoning anything.) And I hope you played the game this is based off of because:**

 **I don't describe the characters that are in the game. It's just a big hassle, and if you've played the game it's unnecessary. Only when the person's appearance is relevant will I mention it, unless it is an original character or one of the origins. Of course, character appearance isn't actually that important, so even if you haven't played the game, I recommend reading this story.**

 **This story is AU: there are multiple origins, but not all of them, that's too many characters. I use the default names for those origins that I do use.**

 **This story also has a few things changed to be more in line with my artistic vision. Some might call the changes AU, I call it artistic license.**

 **As this is my first story in this fandom, and I haven't really read all that many, if there's any fanon I missed, please let me know.**

 **Disclaimer: This work is not intended to infringe upon the rights of any existing intellectual property. Any characters and events portrayed belong to their respective owners.**

 **To be clear, the flashback in italics is super cringe, I know it, and it's supposed to be. Don't think too hard-he isn't like this after the origin.**

 **Without further shenanigans, let the story begin.**

* * *

"-At least the smell will be the same," Teyrn Bryce Cousland laughed with Arl Rendon Howe, as his son, Aedan Cousland, entered the room.

Aedan walked towards the pair, clad in studded leather armor, with a steel long sword-dagger pair strapped to his waist. His straight black hair just reached his shoulders, held in place by an intricate braid around the back of his head. He scratched his stubble as he walked-he'd have to shave soon.

"I'm sorry, pup; I didn't see you there," the Teyrn apologized. The middle aged man turned to the Arl and asked, "Howe, you remember my youngest son, Aedan, yes?"

"I see he's grown into a fine young man," Howe smiled slightly as he observed. "Pleased to see you again, lad."

Aedan nodded courteously. He replied to the Arl in his natural voice, deep and smooth, "And you, Arl Howe."

He spoke with purpose, careful not to say anything too quickly or too slowly, taking just enough time to make every word seem important, but no longer.

"Is your family here?" he continued. Asking about one's family was considered a polite thing to begin a conversation with amongst Fereldan nobles in the last few years. According to his older brother, Fergus, a decade earlier the polite thing to do had been to ask how the weather had been where they lived. Aedan found it fascinating, but only in passing-he had no wish to pursue a career in politics.

"Oh, no, I left them in Amaranthine, well away from the fighting in the south," Howe answered in his grating, nasal tone. Aedan often wondered if he spoke like that to intentionally annoy others, but decided each time that that hardly made sense. "They do send their best wishes, though."

Aedan nodded politely again.

"In fact, my daughter Delilah asked after you," the Arl continued. "Perhaps I ought to bring her with me next time."

Aedan finally showed a smile as he answered, "I think I'd like that."

Aedan was certainly not one to turn down relations with a beautiful woman, and Delilah was certainly beautiful, though quite young. Aedan was twenty five years of age, whereas Delilah should have only recently celebrated her eighteenth birthday. Aedan recalled fond memories of Delilah the last time he saw her, several years prior. She was absolutely nothing like her father or her brother, Nathaniel, those two being utterly irritating and remarkably standoffish, respectively. She was much more like her brother, Thomas.

She was polite and pleasant, but woe betide the fool who thought her dependent on a man to do her thinking for her. She was not empty headed, to be sure. Aedan especially looked forward to how much she must have... matured, in the time he hadn't seen her. She was the type of woman he liked best-strong willed, and not afraid to speak her mind. Well, truthfully he preferred elves, if he was being honest with himself, but he loved women in general. He just couldn't help himself. Aedan was also not unaware that Howe was not so subtly suggesting a marriage between the Delilah and him, which he absolutely did not want at the moment. He was confident he could talk his way out of any misunderstanding, however, and replied as he did with total confidence in retaining his independence.

Though that takes time to explain, not a moment had passed before Howe exclaimed, "Good! She goes on and on about your _prowess_ as a warrior. You're all she's talked about since she last spoke with you at a fair in Denerim two years ago. I think you have an admirer, young man."

"As does she, Arl Howe. And you can tell her I've said that," Aedan said with a laugh.

The Teyrn smiled slightly at his son's antics before saying, "At any rate, pup, I summoned you for a reason. While your brother and I are away, I'm leaving you in charge of the castle."

The remnants of the smile from just moments ago finally vanished entirely from Aedan's face as he got serious. "What?" he asked, successfully keeping calm. He had assumed this would be the case to begin with, but he still found himself surprised. "You mean I won't be going into battle?"

Bryce smiled slightly at his son's sudden distress. "I'm certain you'd more than prove yourself, Pup, but I'm not willing to anger your mother if you join the war. She'd kill me if I let you go. She's already twisted into knots about Fergus and I."

Aedan was about to argue out of instinct, but instead bit his tongue as well as his desire and said, "Very well, Father. I'll do what you think is best."

The Teyrn smiled as he said, "Now that's what I like to hear. Only a token force is remaining here, and you _must_ keep peace in the region. When the cat is away, yes? I'm sure you understand. Don't you, Pup?"

Aedan closed his eyes and sighed before answering.

He understood his father was referring to the Cousland family motto, which had been drilled into his head each time he objected to his parents' wishes.

"Couslands always do their duty first," he said in his most regal tone.

Bryce smiled proudly before saying, "There is also someone you must meet." He motioned to the guards and instructed, "Please, show Duncan in."

A muscled, bearded man, black hair greying at the temples, walked into the great hall with purpose. He wore slim silverite plate armor, appearing Rivaini in make, and bore a long sword and dagger on his waist, mirroring Aedan's choice in weapons, though the material and design differed greatly.

"It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland," he said, his voice a rich baritone, similar to Aedan's, as he crossed his fists over his chest and bowed, slightly.

His polite smile showed the wrinkles on his swarthy face, but Aedan decided that if he aged anywhere near as well as this Duncan, he would be quite happy.

Howe sputtered as he spoke to Bryce. "Your lordship, you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present."

' _A Grey Warden?'_ Aedan thought idly to himself. _'An order comprised of only the strongest warriors and most powerful mages. Would only that father would let me join them.'_

Bryce raised an eyebrow as he informed Howe, "Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there some sort of problem, Howe?"

Howe looked taken aback, firing, "Of course not! It is just that a guest of this stature, demands certain protocols. I am... at a disadvantage."

Bryce shrugged slightly as he surrendered, "We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one of their order in person, that is true."

He turned to Aedan and asked, "Pup, Brother Aldous has taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?"

Aedan had to work hard to keep too much reverence from seeping into his voice as he answered, "Of course. The Grey Wardens are peerless warriors, the heroes of legend, who sacrifice everything to defeat the darkspawn, and end the Blights."

Bryce nodded in approval, before explaining, "Duncan is here looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the south. I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore."

Duncan suddenly spoke up. "If I might be so bold, I would suggest that your son is also an excellent candidate."

Bryce stepped protectively in front of Aedan as he countered, "Honor though that might be, this is my son we're talking about."

Aedan briefly felt a dim anger at his father's refusal, but none of it broke through his usual stoic expression. "I'm sorry, father, but is there a reason I shouldn't join them?"

Bryce looked troubled as he said, "I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all off to battle at once."

He glanced at Duncan before adding, "Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription...?"

Duncan smiled as he shook his head, saying, "Have no fear. While it's true we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing the issue. I'm sure you understand the delicate position my order is in at the moment."

The Teyrn seemed to accept this as he returned to his original position. "In any case, Pup, would you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone?"

Aedan nodded while saying, "Of course."

Bryce nodded and said, "In the meantime, find your brother and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me. He is no doubt in his chambers upstairs, spending some time with his family before he heads off to battle."

Aedan gave a farewell gesture, folding his arms across his chest with a fist over each breast before bowing slightly and taking his leave.

He had barely left the great hall before a ginger haired man in a fine suit of chain came up to him and exclaimed, "There you are! Your mother told me the Teyrn had summoned you, so I didn't want to interrupt."

Aedan laughed and patted the knight on the shoulder, saying, "A good thing, too, considering father's company."

"Yes, I saw the Arl arrive," replied the knight.

"No, not the Arl, Gil! The sodding Grey Warden! Apparently he might test you for recruitment. I wish we could join together," Aedan said wistfully. He moved to the knight's side and put his arm out in front of them, presenting an imaginary scene. "Think of it, the Teyrn's son and his finest knight defeat the Archdemon and end the Blight in record time!"

Gilmore looked just as wistful as Aedan as he said, "That would certainly be glorious. Unfortunately, your father would never allow it."

Aedan looked at the ground, clearly saddened, though it seemed to be a bit played up. "Yes, well, at any rate, you said you were looking for me, Gil?"

"Yes, of course. I fear Muttlie has the kitchens in uproar once again. Nan is threatening to leave."

Muttlie was Aedan's Mabari war hound, with a pedigree older than Aedan himself. He also routinely caused trouble for the kitchen staff at the castle; Nan threatened to leave about once a month.

Aedan laughed heartily before speaking, "Haha! Count on Muttlie to drive Nan up the wall. He has a way with her. Not that she'll really leave, of course. She was my nanny before she was the cook, as you well know, Gilmore. But we'd best collect the dog before he gets me into any real trouble."

"Just follow the screaming," Gilmore joked, and Aedan laughed.

They walked down to the kitchen at a brisk pace, before finally entering the room, finding that Nan was threatening the two servants who happened to be nearby. Aedan recognized the female servant, Elen, as an elven girl he'd been with several times. She was a sweet girl, but a bit subservient. He wished she would stand up for herself more, but he supposed he had his own ancestors to blame for beating the inferiority into the elves to begin with.

Aedan had been with probably a quarter of the young female staff at the castle, who weren't already taken, but he did everything he could to help out the people he'd had relations with, from direct monetary help, to employing their relatives, to even more specific things. Once, he had even fought a duel with a man to defend one of his lovers' honor. It was because of this that he mostly still had a good reputation amongst the help, despite his promiscuous ways. As soon as he saw her, he caught her eye and winked, and she smiled and blushed as she looked down to avoid his gaze.

"Stop teasing the serving girls, Aedan," Gilmore quietly said to his longtime friend. Gilmore was far more traditional, and occasionally tried to stand in the way of his friend's philandering activities. "You don't know if she's just using you for money or... or something."

Aedan looked strangely at Gilmore and said, "How eloquent, Gil. And Elen couldn't use me if she tried, she's a total sweetheart."

Not that some girls didn't try to use him. He recalled one time, several years earlier, when a girl attempted to use him for her own purposes.

 _At dinner, a new elven serving girl kept shooting amorous looks at Aedan, which he happily returned. She was extremely alluring, black hair in pigtails on either side of her head, her full lips naturally a deep red. Slender waist but wide in the right places._

 _Aedan was positively smitten with her, as she seemed to have the fire and the passion he so liked. He could see determination in her eyes, and it was like a torch thrown into a bonfire. He was feeling hot._

 _After several exchanges of honeyed words, she ended up in his bedchambers that same night._

 _They kissed for a long time, before Aedan began to undress her, trailing his lips across her body. When he reached her most sensitive area, however, she pulled away very slightly, and so he stopped immediately._

" _Is this too much? Are you not ready?" he asked gently, having sidled up beside her, their hair touching._

" _N-no!" she frantically proclaimed. "No, that's not it at all!"_

" _Oh?" Aedan asked. "Then why did you pull back?"_

" _It was just... very sudden!"_

 _Aedan shrugged and went back to work, and soon they were about to reach the land of no return. Just as he was about to begin, however, he glanced at her face, and instead of nervous anticipation and trepidation, he saw nothing but fear. Usually there was some fear that could never be separated from nervousness, but this was... terror._

 _He stopped before they connected and got off the bed. He went for his small-clothes before the girl shouted, "Wait! What are you doing, why did you stop!?"_

 _He could hear the nervousness in her voice, the fear she felt. He smiled and said, "You do not have to force yourself. This... is not what you truly want, is it?"_

" _Of- of course it is, my lord!"_

 _Aedan shook his head. "You don't have to worry."_

 _He sat on the edge of the bed, and patted the space beside him. "Sit here."_

 _After she did so, he leaned closer and said, "It's okay. You can tell me what you were trying to get from me."_

" _No, you're-" she started. "That's not, I wasn't-"_

"I _t's alright. You can tell me. First though, start with your name."_

 _She looked at him nervously, which he found absolutely adorable, and said softly, "My name is Anathea."_

"Beautiful _."_

 _Anathea blushed despite herself._

" _Anathea, you can tell me what's wrong. You don't have to force yourself to do this."_

 _The girl buried her head in his shoulder and threw her arms around him as she said, "My... my family is in debt. To people we should never have dealt with. A lot of debt, actually. They said that if we didn't pay... if we didn't pay..."_

 _Aedan protectively shifted her into his lap as she started crying and held her tightly to him. "Anathea, it's going to be alright."_

 _She looked up at him with watering eyes and asked hopefully, "You'll pay our debt?"_

 _Aedan shook his head but quickly explained, "If they find out you have a way to get money quickly, they'll just find a way to make sure you have to pay more and more. The solution, however, is quite simple."_

 _Aedan found big green eyes, simultaneously adorable and unbearably erotic, staring up at him. "It_ _is?"_

 _Aedan laughed and said, "I'll just get rid of the creditors. I'm a Teyrn's son and one of the best fighters in Highever."_

" _You... you would do that for me? Even though we haven't... done it?"_

 _Aedan smiled as he explained, "You must have heard I treat my lovers very well. But that is because I care about them a lot, not as some sort of payment. Not that I have anything against professional whores. They do the same as any of us: whatever they must, just to survive."_

" _So, you... me... you care about me?" Anathea asked._

 _Aedan laughed and kissed her brow. "I just can't help myself. Maybe some would say it's superficial. Your lips, your eyes, your nose, your hair, your breast, your legs, your arse, your everything else. Some would say, because all of these things are perfect, that is why I care. Half right. If you were a horrifying monster I doubt we'd be having this conversation."_

 _She laughed as he continued, "But if you didn't have something about you, then we wouldn't be here either. It seems that I'm just better at seeing that something quickly. Like you. You were prepared to give yourself away to save your family. I saw how terrified you were, I know how hard it was for you to choose to do this. That strength, that fire in you. That is what I see. That is why I care. You're really something else."_

 _She had begun blushing heavily long before this point, but now Aedan could practically feel the heat coming off her face._

 _He concluded, "Anyways, you can sleep on the bed. I'll just sleep on the floor, it's no trouble."_

 _Anathea shook her head in his embrace. "No, we can both sleep on the bed. I don't mind. You're... not so bad._

He killed the dirty loan sharks the very next day, and with his power as the Teyrn's son, he easily swept the incident under the rug. Anathea became his lover some weeks after that, and she warmed his bed often in the years that followed. He was even able to secure her a room within Castle Cousland itself, a right reserved for only the most prestigious servants. However, they were under no foolish ideas their love would be able to continue once he found a wife. Nonetheless, their romance flourished, and more than once he had thought of running away with her. She had no issues with him having relations with other women, as she said that their love was doomed from the start anyways, but he thought he could tell she would rather prefer he didn't. He didn't especially plan on being unfaithful, but he just seemed to fall for practically every pretty woman who looked his way. He couldn't help himself, and Anathea understood that. It was how they met, after all.

Aedan was brought from his thoughts when he heard Nan bark, "Get that bloody mutt out of the larder!"

Aedan stepped forward and spoke strongly, "Now, now, Nan, there's no need to trouble Elen and Derek, now is there? I'll retrieve Muttlie."

Nan spun around, and pointed her wrinkled finger at the pair of men, shouting, "You! And you! Your bloody mongrel keeps sneaking into my larder! That beast ought to be put down!"

Aedan tried to protest, claiming, "Nan, please, Muttlie is a purebred Mabari! If he's in your larder, he must have a good reason! He's at least as smart as your average tax collector."

Nan shook her head as she shouted, "I don't care if he _is_ a bleeding tax collector! I want him out of my larder!"

She turned to the elves and shouted crossly, "And you two! Get out of the way!"

As the elves got clear of the door, Aedan slyly stole a kiss from the blushing Elen and walked into the larder, much to the disapproval of Gilmore.

As the pair walked into the small storeroom, a sleek, large, brown dog began running in circles and barking, before coming to a stop before Aedan, and barking several more times, then presenting his head as if he expected to be petted.

"What? You did a good job? What exactly have you done, other than cause trouble, Muttlie?" Aedan asked curiously.

Gilmore put his hand in front of Aedan as he asked, "Wait, do you hear that?"

Suddenly, enormous rats began pouring out from the walls.

One short fight later, after all three participants were covered in rat blood, but none the worse for wear, Gilmore bid farewell, and left, presumably to clean his armor.

Aedan, whose armor was already bloodstained, walked calmly out of the larder after putting the rat bodies in a pile. They were somebody else's problem, now. Surely someone would be paid to dispose of the bodies. He didn't lack appreciation for the servants, but he could hardly clean up every mess he made. He had an important message to deliver, anyway.

As soon as he was out, Elen came running up to him, and, noticing the blood, gave a shriek.

"Aedan! I- I mean, my lord! Are you alright!?" she shouted, worried.

Aedan pressed a kiss into her brow, which made her blush even with the rest of him covered in rat blood, and said, "I'm alright, dear."

To Nan he said pointedly, "My faithful war hound rounded up and helped kill some dangerous Korcari rats. Nothing we couldn't handle."

Nan mumbled something about how he probably led the rats in to begin with, and after a long exchange with Muttlie ending in her giving him some pork bits, during which time Derek the elf cleaned up the rat bodies and Aedan fooled around with Elen briefly, the dog and Master pair took their leave of the kitchen staff, off to find Fergus.

Aedan found his way upstairs blocked by his mother, and, if he recalled correctly, Bann Loren's wife, Lady Landra, her son Dairren, and her... lady-in-waiting, perhaps? What a lovely looking elf.

"-and mistook Bryce for the king!" his mother said scandalously. "And here is my youngest son, now. I take it by the presence of your troublesome hound that the situation in the kitchens is handled?"

"Of course, Mother," Aedan replied, intending to make a good impression on the buxom blonde elf watching him. "Nan is back to work as we speak."

"You've always had a way with her," his mother smiled. "Darling, you remember Lady Landra, Bann Loren's wife?"

The grey haired woman suggested with a pleasant voice, "I think we last met at your mother's spring salon."

That salon was hard to forget. Aedan still smiled good-naturedly, replying graciously, "Of course, my lady. It is good to see you again."

He swore he saw the woman blush as she said, "You are too kind, dear boy. Didn't I spend half the salon shamelessly flirting with you?"

Dairren said, "Right in front of your family, too."

Aedan briefly wondered why Dairren would acknowledge such a thing, before Landra continued, "You remember my son, Dairren? I believe you two sparred in the last King's Tourney?"

Dairren, apparently intending to make his entire family look as bad as possible, said, "And you beat me handily, as I recall. It is good to see you again, my lord."

And it was more or less true. Aedan had won the entire tourney, not that knights were allowed to enter, so the victory was hardly meaningful. Aedan recalled Dairren's bout with ease, and though Dairren hadn't lasted more than three exchanges, after going through all the fights in his head, he decided Dairren was amongst the better fighters there, though he had had the misfortune to meet Aedan in the first few rounds. Aedan did not have a very studious mind, but remembered two things with perfect clarity: Every woman he'd ever been with, and every fight he'd ever been in.

"You're being modest, Dairren," Aedan accused. "Had you not met me in the second round, I daresay you could have made it to the quarter-finals, at least."

"You are too kind, my lord," Dairren nodded.

Landra gestured to the beautiful elf beside her and said, "And this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona."

When Iona did not respond, Landra urged, "Do say something, dear."

Iona spoke with a sort of hush in her tone, clearly nervous. Had she heard something bad about him?

"It is a great honor, my lord. I have heard many wonderful things about you."

Evidently, she had not heard something bad about him.

Landra, sort of pretending to lower her voice, but not actually doing so, said to the Teyrna, "Don't look now, Eleanor, but I believe the girl has a crush on your lad."

Iona instantly turned red, and let a "Lady Landra!" escape from her lips.

Eleanor said, "Hush, Landra. You'll turn the poor thing scarlet."

Iona seemed to be sinking back further and further in her embarrassment, so Aedan hurriedly said, "Perhaps we should speak alone some time, Iona?"

Some of her blush faded, but she was just as embarrassed, barely able to get out, "As it... pleases you, my lord."

Landra said her farewells and headed to her guest room, as the other two said they'd be headed for the study.

Before Aedan could chase after Iona, his mother ambushed him with a, "You should say goodbye to Fergus while you have the chance."

The mention of Fergus reminded him of the darkspawn, and the darkspawn reminded him of Duncan. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Did you know there's a Grey Warden here, in the castle?"

"Yes, your father mentioned that. You haven't got it into your head that you want to be recruited?" she frowned.

"Would that truly be so bad?" Aedan insisted in vain.

"There's enough here at the castle to occupy you, no? If not the work, then at least the women?" As if to argue with words unsaid, she told Aedan, "Do not think I do not know what goes on in my own castle, lad. Surely the servants I hired just recently should keep you from chasing danger like your brother?"

Aedan looked shocked. "That was you?! I was wondering why so many new beautiful serving girls started appearing recently. That's a nasty trick."

Eleanor looked nonchalant and said, "I would prefer the possibility of a scandal to the possibility of your death, darling. When you have a child some day, you'll understand why I do the things I do."

Aedan sighed. "Still, I worry about Father and Brother. I would feel better down at Ostagar."

"As would I, darling. Your father and brother are marching down south to fight Maker-knows-what. All the assurances in the world don't comfort me. But believe me, it wouldn't help for us to take up arms and follow. Fergus and your father have their duty, and we have ours. You must remember our motto, after all the times your father and I have tried to make sure you don't forget it."

Aedan nodded as he repeated what he had been told hundreds of times by his parents, and as he had just said not an hour earlier. "Couslands always do their duty first."

His mother smiled and hugged him. "I love you, my darling boy. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course. I love you too, Mother. What brought this on?" Aedan laughed.

"You've grown up so fast. And now Bryce is leaving you in charge of the castle... I suppose there is no point in dwelling on it. Go do what you must, then. I will see you soon."

Elanor kissed her son on the cheek goodbye, and he headed back down the stairs to the study, and hopefully, Iona.

* * *

 **Note from the author: I hope that wasn't complete shite.**

 **Also, this is rated M for explicit stuff in the future. Discretion advised going forward.**

 **If there are any big spelling, grammar, or other syntax errors that interfere with comprehension of the story, please let me know in a review.**

 **Also, please review and tell me how you like this so far.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here we go!**

 **Disclaimer: Unchanged from previous disclaimer.**

* * *

Aedan took his leave and headed to the study, where he found himself caught in a trap Brother Aldous sprung, and was forced to give a lecture to two young squires.

He tried to make it fun for them, but made sure to impress on the lads that though they were not born Cousland, they would be knights of the family, and thus, they too must follow the motto of the Cousland family. They took to that about as well as he ever did. Maker, he didn't take well to it _now._

After that though, he managed to talk to Iona alone. Luckily, Dairren was out of the room for some reason. Aedan could have sworn they said they were both headed to the study.

As soon as he approached, Muttlie barked at Iona in a conversational tone, and went up to her, expecting to be pet.

As she scratched him behind the ears, she said to Muttlie, "You are a wonderful dog. You are very noble and intelligent, indeed."

As Muttlie barked happily, she looked to Aedan and said, "Greetings once again, my lord."

Aedan bowed and smiled graciously before saying, "First things first, you are amazingly beautiful, if you will allow me to say so."

Iona giggled and replied, "My lord is very kind, indeed. But I imagine he says that to many women, yes?"

Aedan smiled sheepishly and said, "When they are as beautiful as you, I cannot help myself."

Iona giggled again, and Aedan let his smile drop as he asked seriously, "I hope you do not mind that I have been with many—am with many-other women?"

Iona shook her head, replying softly, "Perhaps others might, but not I. I only hope you do not mind the reverse-I have not been with many men."

Aedan laughed despite himself as he denied, "I do not know of many men who would mind such a thing, and I certainly don't myself. But we _should_ get to know each other better."

Iona nodded and allowed, "Ask what you will of me, my lord."

"I have not seen many elven ladies-in-waiting."

"Lady Landra has been very good to me. I am lucky. If I may? Your mother has no ladies-in-waiting herself. Is this usual for a noblewoman of her rank?"

"She doesn't like people fussing over her. Though, if she found one as beautiful as you, I might encourage her."

"You are very... kind, my lord! I am no one special, you make me blush."

Aedan smiled suggestively before asking, "How did you come to know Lady Landra?"

"My family has been in service to hers for many years, and she elevated my place as a reward for our loyalty. I only hope my position will be passed to my own daughter."

Aedan's ears perked when he heard this. He had to be sure he wasn't stepping on any toes. He had made the mistake once, by accident, and he never wanted to deal with another angry husband. It is not so easy to argue when your only defence is 'your wife is a brazen slut, so I had no idea she was already taken.'

"Your daughter?" he asked suspiciously.

"Forgive me; I shouldn't have mentioned her," Iona looked frightened.

Aedan was stumped for a second before reassuring her, "No, no, it's quite alright. It's just that, well, what of her father?"

Iona looked down and said, "He... died of a wasting sickness several years ago."

Aedan was glad in the back of his head that she was not married but felt pain at her loss, so he consoled her, "You have my condolences. I am sure he was a good man. He certainly had fine taste in women, at the very least. But enough of the departed; tell me of your daughter."

"Her name is Amethyne. She is my life. You will understand when you have children. This is why your mother protects you from the coming battle."

"Amethyne... I'll bet she has your gorgeous blue eyes."

"She... does. Many people say she looks a great deal like me. I am the only one to see her father in her."

"That is understandable. Earlier, you said you hope she inherits your position. You don't hope for more for your daughter?"

"I have risen very high for my people. I would not tempt fate by wishing for more."

Aedan ran his hands through his hair as he said, "Would that I could find and slay the first Tevinter who enslaved the first elf. Even many Ages later, your people are still oppressed by mine. I am sorry. If I become Teyrn after my brother, hopefully after he has led a long life, I hope to petition the Landsmeet to improve the conditions of alienages, or even do away with them outright."

"That is a noble goal, my lord," Iona offered.

"Perhaps that is only my childish ambition speaking, however. Who knows if that would merely inspire more hatred and racism? Not I."

"I... do not know, either, your lordship. If I may be so bold... why is it you seem to care so deeply for my people?" Iona asked innocently, causing Aedan to blush despite himself.

"I hope you do not mind me speaking of matters like this, but I have had... a great many elven lovers, and I know each of them intimately. Do your best to keep my secret, but I actually have... a regular mistress... who is an elf. I love her a great deal, but as it stands, we cannot be together. Perhaps this makes me prejudiced," Aedan said both nervously and wistfully.

When Iona heard this, instead of being embarrassed, she looked almost... curious?

"My lord, you mentioned you have a mistress?" Iona asked calmly.

"I... I did not intend to say it so bluntly, but, yes... I do. Several, in fact, but only one who has been with me for so long. I am sorry, it is not right to speak of a woman while in the company of another."

Iona shook her head vigorously. "No, no! I mean, that is to say... Has my lord ever been with two women at once?" she asked, at the end getting much closer to Aedan and blushing ferociously.

Aedan suddenly felt his armor was just a bit tight in the lower half.

"I... no, I have not," he answered softly, almost scared she didn't mean what he thought she meant.

"Do you..." Iona grew closer, until her head was almost pressed to his chest. "Want to?"

Aedan grasped Iona's small, elven chin in his fingers and positioned her head to face his, as he closed the distance between them. Just as their lips were about to touch, he whispered, practically into her mouth, "Are you offering?"

Iona blushed but did not move away, "It seems I am."

Aedan closed the microscopic distance between them, sealing their lips together, before quickly moving to her ear. "I expect to see you after dinner, then, Iona."

Iona said softly, "I will be at your quarters, my lord Cousland."

"Call me Aedan," he said before he kissed her twice quickly and strode out of the study.

He made his way upstairs, remembering only once he reached the room housing his brother's chambers why he was actually there.

He walked into the room just as Fergus said to a pretty woman and a small child, "I speak the truth! And here's my little brother to see me off. Dry your eyes love, and wish me well."

Aedan walked to Fergus, smacked his fist against his brother's heavy chain armor, and said, mostly for his nephew Oren's benefit, "No darkspawn could harm Fergus!"

Oriana, Fergus's wife, said in opposition, "He is as mortal as anyone, despite his refusal to believe."

Fergus countered with a, "No need to be grim, love."

Aedan said seriously, "You'll be missed, brother."

Fergus simply laughed and said, "If it's any consolation, I'm sure I'll freeze in the southern rain and be completely jealous of you up here, warm and safe."

Oriana laughed despite trying hard not to and said through teary eyes, "I am positively thrilled you will be so miserable, husband."

"I wish I could go with you," confessed Aedan.

"I wish you could come, Aedan! It'll be tiring, killing all those darkspawn myself."

Oriana shook her head and sniffled, "Surely your father would not place both his heirs in danger."

Fergus smiled sadly and said, "Mother and father have been fighting about it for days. It's too bad; I could have used you at my side."

Talk of fighting reminded Aedan of Duncan. "Did you know there's a Grey Warden, here, in the castle?"

Suddenly the little Oren exclaimed, "Really, Uncle Aedan? Was he riding a griffon?"

Aedan bent down and ruffled Oren's hair. "Unfortunately not, Oren. But he was wearing shining silver armor, and his sword was glimmering with light! With him on the field, there's no doubt your father will return victorious."

Oren looked beside himself, as Fergus spoke up, "I'd heard that. Did he say why he was here?"

"He said he was recruiting."

"Oh?" Fergus said with a smile. "If I were a Grey Warden, I'd have my eye on you, little brother. Not that father would ever allow it."

"Well, you're right on both counts. He said that the Grey Wardens would love to have me, but didn't want to step on any toes, since they've only just been allowed back into the country. Just in time, too! Speaking of the Blight, father wants you to leave tonight, without him."

Fergus threw his hands in the air and paced in a circle as he exclaimed, "So the Arl's men _are_ delayed! You'd think they were all walking _backwards_. Well, I'd better get underway. So many darkspawn to behead, so little time! Off we go then! I'll see you soon, my love."

The group suddenly heard the Teyrn's voice from outside the room, "I'd hope, dear boy, that you'd planned to wait for _us_ before taking your leave."

Bryce and Eleanor walked into the room, completing the party.

Eleanor spoke, "Be well, my son. I will pray for your safety every day you are gone."

Aedan reassured her, "Fergus will be fine."

"I keep telling you, no darkspawn will ever best me!" Fergus added.

Oriana began to pray, "Maker sustain and preserve us all. Watch over our sons, husbands and fathers, and bring them safely back to us."

"And bring us some ale and wenches, while you're at it!" Fergus finished. Only after his wife looked at him like he was out of his mind did he add, "For the soldiers, of course."

"Fergus!" Oriana chastised. "You would say this in front of your mother?"

"What's a wench?" Oren asked innocently. "Is that what you pull on to get the bucket out of the well?"

"A wench is a woman who pours the ale in a tavern, Oren," Bryce supplied. "Or... a woman drinks a lot of ale."

"Bryce!" Eleanor exhaled. "Maker's breath, I swear it's like living with a pack of small boys."

"I'll miss you, mother dear," Fergus said through his laughter. He turned to Aedan and said, "You'll take of her, Brother, won't you?"

"You'll need more protecting than her," Aedan said, half jokingly.

"I agree," Oriana concurred. "Especially if you get yourself hurt. I will never forgive you!"

"Now _that_ is a good incentive, wouldn't you say?" Fergus joked.

"Enough, enough," Bryce breathed. He looked to Aedan and said, "Pup, you'll want to get an early night. You've much to do tomorrow."

Aedan gave his brother the Soldier's Farewell, both pushing their right forearms together, making an 'X' between them, and holding their left hands over the other's back. "Fight well, Fergus," Aedan said solemnly.

"Lead well, Aedan," Fergus returned, tone carrying the same solemness.

After that, Aedan headed to tell Anathea of Iona's plan. Entering Anathea's room, he found her sweeping idly, so he crept up behind her and took the broom from her hands.

Whirling around to see the intruder, she had just enough time to see it was Aedan before his lips founds hers, and they kissed for several minutes, intensity building, before Aedan stopped, and explained the situation.

"You want me to have a threesome with you and Bann Loren's wife's Lady-in-Waiting?" The pale elf confirmed.

"Yes," Aedan said simply, hope fading.

"One condition."

His eyes snapped open.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I want you to myself after this for at least a week. Deal?"

She had said it confidently, but in her eyes Aedan could tell she was nervous, like she thought was asking for too much. Aedan had always been able to see people's emotions on their faces, when he was looking. Even though it was well hidden, he could see it.

Her nervousness about her request made Aedan feel horrible, so he quickly kissed her.

"A week?" he said. "Two weeks. A month. You don't need to trade for this, Anathea. If you want me to yourself, you must tell me."

Anathea looked up at him.

"I just worry sometimes, that if you only stay with me, you'll tire of me for good. If that happened, I... I don't know what I'd do."

Aedan kissed her again and again.

"That will _never_ happen," he assured her. "If we could run away together, I would do it in a heartbeat. No matter what I had to give up, I would do it to be with you. But the Teyrnir is bigger than just me. You know all this."

Anathea gently placed her finger on Aedan's lips, before talking, "Let us not think of such dour things. I will head to your room after dark. Prepare yourself."

After a long kiss, Aedan disentangled himself from his elven mistress.

 **[Threesome Scene will probably be added to a story with all the lemons of this story. Be patient-this scene isn't in the game in the first place.]**

That night, Aedan slept very heavily, until Muttlie woke him up with barking.

Aedan had barely opened his eyes by the time Iona was out of bed, telling him, "Your hound is making so much noise! He seems so angry!"

"Ugh," Aedan grumbled through his grogginess. "That might mean someone is outside. I'll get the door, get back to bed, Iona."

"I... alright," she said.

Suddenly, an arrow sprouted from her neck, and blood sprayed across the room. The door had been smashed open in a split second.

Iona looked at Aedan helplessly as she sunk to the ground, life fading from her eyes. She was dead before he even yelled her name.

Aedan's battle cry never even began in his throat, his rage overcoming his reasoning, and he silently grabbed the steel sword from off his nightstand.

For as long as Aedan could remember, he had had a strength hidden within him that no one else seemed to display. It was a superhuman strength, well beyond the bounds of normality. It wasn't always in use; he had to call upon its power. Although at first, it would be more accurate to say the power called upon him.

When he was a child, whenever he got upset, he would summon it by accident. He had been very upset with his brother, once, when he was no older than five years. He had punched a hole right through a castle wall, dislodging centuries old stone. No one seemed to believe he had done it himself, told him the wall was getting weak in spots, and that he was lucky it didn't collapse on top of him. But he knew the truth. He had monstrous strength, and it terrified him.

The frightened boy he was at the time sought martial training to control it, and over the years, he had managed to lock it away, only letting it surface when he needed it. In fact, in several years' time, his skill with a blade surpassed that of his teacher's, without even using the power. His ability with a blade and dagger was unmatched in Fereldan-amongst those he had fought, at any rate.

But still, he constantly felt the temptation of the strength calling to him, and he often wondered what the nature of it was exactly. Was it magic? Or something else? Was it evil, or not? It bore a great deal of similarity to the battle rage Ash Warriors used, but it was much, much stronger, and it was inborn, not learned. All he knew for sure was that whenever he used it, it took over quickly, and he could only truly control it for a split second. After that, it controlled him.

But he had never needed to use it before. It had always watched, and waited.

Until now.

Aedan had just seen Iona shot down in an instant, and he felt nothing but unquenchable rage, the raw desire to kill those who had done this to her. He let his body fill with power.

He charged the four soldiers outside the door, killing three in one wide arc, with Muttlie taking down the fourth. He felt no fear. He only needed to kill the men as quickly as possible. He had left himself wide open for the third man, and it was shear luck he wasn't injured. He dodged the arrows of the soldiers who had been trying to break down his mother's door, charging at them with reckless speed, before those men were dead as well.

Aedan was not unused to killing, but he had never killed so many so quickly, and he had never relied on the power in him to do it. He felt his rage recede into the back of his head, strength receding as well.

However, this time, his rage still burned, and he had to make a conscious effort to keep it quelled.

He ran back to his room and quickly donned his studded leather armor, retrieving his dagger as well. He ran back to his mother's door and shouted at her to open it.

"Darling!" his mother shouted, as he noticed her wearing armour similar to his. "I heard fighting outside and I feared the worst. Are you hurt?"

He wanted to shout that Iona was dead and he was freaking out, but he couldn't find his voice. Instead, he found himself saying, "I'm fine. Do you know what's going on?"

"A scream woke me up! There were men in the hall, so I barred the door. Did you see their shields?"

"Their shields?"

"These are Howe's men! Why would they attack us?!"

"I.. what?! I didn't even notice their shields. Dear Maker, it's Howe! He's betrayed us! He attacks while our troops are gone!"

"You don't think his men were delayed... on purpose? That bastard! I'll cut his lying throat myself. Have you seen your father? He never came to bed!"

"No, I've been in my room all night."

"We must find him!"

"Oh, holy Maker. Anathea! I didn't even consider..." Aedan exclaimed.

"We'll find them both, darling. We'll fight our way to them. They both know of the servants' passage in the larder, that's where they must be!"

Aedan knew it was nonsense. His father was a warrior, if aging, but Anathea couldn't protect herself from trained soldiers, nor could she blend into the shadows. If she... If anything happened.

Aedan forced himself to stop thinking.

The pair made their way to Fergus's chambers, hoping to help Oriana and Oren escape, but what they found was a dead woman and child, along with a dead soldier.

Aedan did not even hear what his mother said as he sunk to his knees and picked up Oren's mangled corpse.

A sudden pain struck Aedan's head as he saw, vividly, Oren's head snap towards his, and his childish voice say, " _Really, Uncle Aedan? Was he riding a griffon?"_

The pain struck him suddenly once again, and Oren's head was back where it was just seconds before.

He closed the boy's eyes and laid him down. He said nothing as he strode out of the room, and opened the door to the next, where several archers had arrows trained on him, but they were no match for the power that filled him.

As they loosed their shots, he deftly blocked two with the flat of his steel blade and a third with his dagger. He yelled ferociously and charged the archers, swiftly dispatching all three. He heard another thud as his mother's arrow shot dead a fourth target, unseen to him.

Lady Landra was dead, too.

The pain struck his head, and the grey haired woman's corpse began flirting with him. He was stunned until the pain struck him again, and the woman was silent once more.

The pair and the dog ran down the hall.

Aedan barely heard his mother tell him he needed to escape alive if they could not find his father, and he barely heard himself encourage a servant into defending himself, barely registered ending the lives of dozens of men. His rage, his power, dulled his perception. It dulled his skill, too, but he could not have possibly noticed. It hardly mattered, either, as anyone who crossed his path was dead no matter what they did. He yelled heroically, but his voice was almost silent to him. Every dead body he saw spoke to him, and their voices boomed in his ears.

He began to hear less and less as they bodies thundered louder and louder, but his body, his voice, reacted for him.

He fought, more slaughtered, his way through the castle, until he could hear nothing at all.

That is, until he heard a small thud, and a sharp intake of air coming from behind him. He whirled around, and saw his mother, bleeding from her stomach, sputtering blood from her mouth.

He heard nothing as he ran to his mother, but her voice was clear as glass.

"My darling boy.. I love you... so much... Take... the treasury... key. The family... blade... is inside. Tell your father.. I love him. Tell Fergus.. I love him. Goodbye... my darling boy. Remember... duty... first..."

Aedan felt his eyes tear up, but no words escaped his lips. His throat was thick with rage, and no man stood any chance of standing in his way. He fought his way to the treasury and frantically shoved his pack full with sovereigns, before retrieving the Cousland family blade. There was a set of steel scale armor, but he had no time to put it on, and he did not have much room in his pack. He prayed to the maker his studded leather would suffice.

He slaughtered his way through to the great hall, assisting Gilmore in his battle. After the battle was done, Gilmore barred the interior gates with the rest of his living men. They were sacrificing their lives for Aedan's, hoping to keep the doors closed long enough for him to escape. Tears refused to fall as he continued on his way. His best friend was gone, just like that.

He fought in silence save for the dead, mimicking things they had once said to him while they yet breathed.

The next true noise he heard was Anathea's voice. It was a squeal of pain, and he rushed to her.

He saw her pressed up against a wall in a back room, one of Howe's men had her pinned against ancient stone. She was struggling to break free, but the man was too strong. He was fumbling with his armor, and Aedan suddenly heard everything very loudly.

"Stop struggling, you knife-eared slut, or I'll gut you like a fish. I'm not really all that picky anyways."

Anathea kept squirming, and the man slapped her across her pretty face, sending her to the ground.

"Now you'll get it, you whore. I'll enjoy breaking-" the man's words abruptly stopped as his head hit the floor with a thud, Aedan's blade already returning to the scabbard. As the man died, he wondered why a sickeningly familiar body was coming into view. That was his final thought.

Anathea burst into tears, and her crying was loud in Aedan's ears. He could hear the screams and grunts of the soldiers fighting outside, he could hear Anathea's clothing rustling together.

"You'll be alright, my love. Stay close behind me," Aedan ordered.

Anathea nodded weakly and stood close enough behind for him to feel her breath on his neck, though her head barely came up to his chest.

He continued to slaughter his way through the castle, protecting Anathea and relying on Muttlie to be where he could not. They made it all the way to the kitchen, but he didn't expect a line of eight archers waiting for him.

Enraged, he managed to block five of their arrows, but the sixth struck him in his gut at a weak spot in his armor, the seventh and eighth hitting him in his shoulder and his lower leg, his armor keeping them from going in too deep.

But the sixth arrow... The sixth arrow had punched into his body and passed all the way through him. The gasp of air he heard behind him sounded like an explosion in his ears.

He ignored the pain as rage greater than he had ever felt filled him, and his strength multiplied, power surging through his veins.

He charged the line of archers, one of which managed to shoot him in the thigh, and one in his other shoulder. The archers pulled their daggers and though two were occupied with Muttlie, the other six managed to rough him up before he could cut them in half. He sported two vicious cuts on his face, and multiple stab wounds on his body, to go along with the lacerations and arrow wounds.

When they were dead, he limped over to where Anathea lay, dying. He had over a dozen wounds from this fight alone, dozens in total, but he could keep fighting.

Anathea's only wound was already killing her.

She pulled him down to her and kissed him roughly, before accidentally coughing a good deal of blood directly into his mouth.

He didn't mind the iron taste so much.

The love of his life was dying in front of him. His armor had failed to protect him, but the one who died was her.

"I love you so much, Anathea."

"This wasn't... your fault," she rasped before coughing more blood onto his face. "You did... all you could... I don't... blame you."

"No... no, Anathea, you'll be okay. We can run away together, okay? Fergus is the heir. We can go somewhere else, have children, live together, so please, Anathea! Stay with me!" Aedan's voice was nothing but a whisper by the end, tears falling onto Anathea. His rage had subsided, but his power refused to leave him. He would surely succumb to his wounds otherwise.

Anathea smiled with bloody teeth. "I would have... loved that, Aedan. But... I'm dying."

"Is it... because I loved other women? I'll stop! I'll only be with you from now on! Just stay with me!" Aedan begged, tears falling at a breakneck pace. His mind was muddled, his reasoning made no sense. He couldn't comprehend what was in front of him.

His everything was fading away.

"That's not... who you are, dear," Anathea's voice was fading fast, and both her and Aedan's faces were covered in blood. "You have... so much love, Aedan. It's one of... the reasons... I fell for you... You can... forget about me, now. In the next life... I'll keep you... all to myself..."

"No, no, no, you can have me in this one!"

"I... love you... more than... life, Aedan. I don't... blame... you. I don't... blame..."

Anathea stopped breathing in and out.

Aedan's hearing returned to normal.

He kissed Anathea's corpse once, twice, and three times round again, before wordlessly limping to the larder.

He opened the door, and found his father in the same state Anathea had been, bleeding out, dying. Aedan was close to death, but he would be able to flee for a time.

His father wasn't so lucky.

Aedan felt rage fill him, but there was no one to kill. Part of him had expected this, from the start.

His rage deflated, and his power almost deserted him, but he held on to life, just barely.

He limped over to his dying father.

"There... you are. Your... mother?"

"Said she loves you. You'll be... together soon," Aedan rasped.

"Good. I miss her... already..."

"Father..."

"You must... escape, Aedan. The castle... is surrounded. But I... believe in you."

Aedan heard footsteps and turned as fast as he could, planning on protecting his father if Howe's men arrived. Luckily, it was the Grey Warden, covered in as much blood as Aedan, though far more of it was likely enemies'.

"I'm afraid the Teyrn is correct. The Arl's men have not yet discovered this exit, but they surround the castle. Getting past will be difficult."

"I don't suppose... you could heal my father, Duncan?" Aedan asked hopelessly.

Duncan shook his head.

"Duncan..." Bryce said. "You are, under, no obligation, to me, but... I beg you... Take my son to safety!"

"I will your lordship. But I fear I must ask something in return."

"Let me... guess..." Bryce coughed blood. "My son... will be... a Grey Warden?"

"That is correct. It may not look it, but the Blight is an evil greater even than Arl Howe."

"But, I must take vengeance, first..." Aedan trailed off.

Duncan was silent as Bryce corrected his son. "My boy... your duty is not... to take vengeance... it is now... to end... the Blight."

Aedan smiled in spite of himself. "Don't we have some sort of motto about that?"

"Couslands always... do their duty, first."

"I think that was it," Aedan smiled through his teary, bloody, face.

"Pup... don't let your father... die like this. Don't let them... have the satisfaction."

Aedan silently drew his dagger and positioned the tip between his father's ribs.

"Go, pup. Warn your brother. And know that your mother and I love you both. You do us so proud."

"I could not wish for a greater man than you to have raised me. I love you and mother, so much. Goodbye, father," Aedan said as he plunged his dagger into his father's heart.

Aedan barely even understood how he and Duncan evaded Howe's soldiers. The last thing he remembered of that night was finding a horse and needing Duncan to put him on it before Duncan got on himself.

He had no dreams, just a vague sense of blackness waiting for him in the Fade. He felt like he was there for longer than ever before.

* * *

 **How was that? Review and tell me, please.**


	3. Chapter 3

**7 Years and 7 Days Earlier, In The Fade**

Two men stood, talking, in the fade. One, with short black hair and the faintest trace of stubble, wore the blue robes of an apprentice; the other, light brown haired and clean shaven, wore the red robes of a Senior Enchanter.

"You would be a fool to just attack everything you see," the red mage warned. "What you face is powerful, cunning."

"Is that so?" The blue mage asked in a flippant tone. "That's a bit arrogant."

"W-what?" The blue mage sputtered in confusion.

"Well, you're talking about yourself, aren't you?" The blue mage countered, the same way another might have said, 'Well, most mages wear robes, don't they?' "It's a bit arrogant to call yourself powerful and cunning, even if it's true."

"I'm not talking about myself!" The red mage denied vehemently. "Why would you think that?!"

"That's a good question," the blue mage returned. "The first clue came as soon as you started talking. I'm supposed to believe an apprentice that failed the Harrowing somehow both survived for years on end in the fade cut off from his physical and very dead body _and_ learned to change into a mouse? No way. The next clue was your robes. Only Senior Enchanters wear red robes. In the fade, you are what you perceive yourself to be. Why do you think of yourself as a Senior Enchanter if you failed your Harrowing? Third big clue came just now. Why would you be trying to convince me a spirit of rage is powerful and _cunning?_ Its entire being is anger, there's nothing cunning about it at all. I can also sense some warrior spirit, courage or glory or valor or something, that's surely not the test. And there's a sloth spirit, too, but it's not a very strong one. I doubt he'd be motivated enough to agree to something like the Harrowing. Which just leaves you, Mouse."

The red mage laughed into his hands, before saying in an annoyed tone, "You are a smart one. But you talk too much."

The blue mage laughed as well. "You're not the first to tell me that. Say, do I need to go kill Rage over there or is that not necessary? Oh, right, before that, obviously, there's nothing you can do to convince me to make a deal with you. Attack me if you must, but know that you won't survive the attempt."

"Tell me one thing," the red mage's voice suddenly deepened to inhuman levels. "How did you know what type of spirits the others are?"

The blue mage smiled, and said, "I can feel their presences. They're subtly influencing the fade that surrounds them to change to be more like them. The stronger they are, the more influential they become. You, on the other hand, aren't influencing the fade at all. I can tell you're not utterly powerless, which means you must be very strong indeed. That's the real reason I knew my test was you from the beginning. I could feel everything down to the wisps the instant I arrived, but you surprised me. I didn't notice you at all. I was so shocked that all I could say at first was, 'You're a talking rat.'"

"So that's why," the red mage realized, voice still not matching the body. "I had you figured for a fool. I'm glad to see I was wrong."

"Certainly not more glad than me," the blue mage joked. "I'm quite happy not being a complete fool, if I am foolish quite often. Wait... If you're glad I'm not a fool, does that mean you have something you want me to do? Or is it something I'm going to have to do that will affect even the fade?"

The red mage laughed again, before his form changed in a flash of light. A tall humanoid creature of grey skin and extravagant robes floated above where Mouse had stood a second earlier.

"Maybe they are right about you," it seemed to say offhand, before looking at the blue mage. "For a task accomplished so well, allow me to reward you with some advice."

"Wait! Who's they, and what are they right about me?" The blue mage asked frantically.

"This day in a week of years, a stranger who has lost almost everything will enter your hall, dead ten times but living still. He is like you. He is unto his brethren as you are unto yours: different, more dangerous, from his first breath. Let him leave your hall alone, and your homeland will fall. Go with him, and you will be like him twice over; you will stand far above your peers, but lose almost everything else."

The blue mage blinked vacantly. Sadness, grief, and then resolution entered his eyes, in that order. He sighed and said, "That was more of a prophecy than a piece of advice, but I thank you nonetheless."

The other entity laughed a bit, before shaking its head. "Keep your wits about you, Daylen Amell. True tests: Never end."

But the blue mage, Daylen, did not exit the fade right away. He wasn't in such a hurry that he couldn't annihilate a rage spirit and a sloth spirit. And the warrior spirit would be interesting to talk to. Yes, he thought he'd have a nice, long chat with all three of them.

 **In The Harrowing Chamber**

A templar with greying hair stood tall over a bearded mage with fully grey hair, who was starting to sit on the floor.

"Irving? What are you doing that for? Isn't Daylen your best student? Only student, rather. Shouldn't he complete the Harrowing quickly, even if he is just 17? Why are you sitting on this dusty floor?" The Templar asked the mage.

The mage chuckled up at the templar, before saying, "Oh, I'm sure Daylen will pass very quickly, perhaps more quickly than anyone in Fereldan Circle history."

"Then, why?" The Templar asked again, waving his hand at the sitting old mage.

"You don't know Daylen very well, Greagoir. If you did, you'd sit down, too."

"But _why?_ "

"Daylen... Well... he likes to talk. A lot. Likes to argue, too."

"Even with _demons?_ "

" _Especially_ with demons."

" _What?! That's-"_

"Nothing to worry about, Greagoir."

"Why's that?"

"Because, when Daylen argues with demons, he _always_ wins."

* * *

 **Present Day Fereldan**

Aedan vaguely recalled being on a horse for a long time, then being in a boat, and then later, a bed. When he woke up, he felt almost like everything was fine. His body didn't feel the pain it had before he slept, and he didn't have any discomfort, nor was he hungry. But he didn't for a second forget he was no longer in Castle Cousland, and that everyone he ever knew or loved, save one, was dead. And there was nothing he could do to change that. Before he even opened his eyes, he thought of everyone he knew who had died.

Iona, his lover, was dead, shot through the neck.

Oriana, his sister in law, was dead, stabbed in the chest.

Oren, his nephew, was dead, stabbed in the chest.

Lady Landra, one of his mother's greatest friends, was dead, throat slit.

His mother was dead, shot in the stomach.

Elen, his lover, was dead, shot in the eye. Her body was unclothed, and bore evidence of being raped either before or after her death.

Eight other lovers were dead, all shot with arrows. Most had been raped.

Four other lovers had their throats slit, and five were stabbed. All raped.

At least a hundred servants whom he was on friendly terms with were dead, many of the women defiled.

His nanny was dead, throat slit.

Gil, his best friend, was certainly dead. He gave up his life to buy his Lord and strongest friend time.

Anathea, his love of loves, was dead, shot in her chest through his own stomach.

His father was dead, shot three times in the stomach.

He opened his eyes in a yellow-lit stone room, on a bed that was surprisingly comfy. He swung his legs over the side silently, tears refusing to fill his eyes, a subtle rage continuing to burn in the back of his head. His power was ready to fill him at a moment's notice. He took his head in his hands before standing up suddenly.

He walked out of the door-less room, and found the circular hallway empty. He didn't know where he was for certain, but considering he felt totally healed, and the circular nature of the building, he guessed he was in the Circle of Magi's tower. Only way to leave a tower is the bottom, so he made to find the stairs.

He realized only as he walked that he was wearing a cotton shirt and pants, and he felt extremely vulnerable. He needed heavy armor. His leather armor hadn't been enough to protect Anathea. He decided he needed the heaviest armor he could find. His strength was sufficient, and his power would allow him to move quickly no matter the burden.

He found the stairs and walked down, and now he saw mages about. The ones who weren't actively doing magic pointed at him and whispered. It was a normal reaction for him as the son of a Teyrn, and coming in so close to death likely colored their opinions of him. He found he didn't really care about their opinions at all, when once he might have. With practically everyone he ever loved dead, what other people thought of him suddenly seemed so... unimportant.

He normally would have smiled or at least nodded to anyone he passed, but he barely spared a glance at anyone, never acknowledging them. The rage burning in his head required a constant effort to restrain, and it kept him from thinking about what kind of an impression he was leaving on the mages.

He continued around the tower, went down the stairs, and kept on walking, until he came across an odd scene.

A young mage, around Aedan's own age, dressed in red robes with hair as black as his own, but not nearly as long, was helping up a wizened mage off the ground. Several templars were splayed across the floor as well, and a priestess was cowering in the corner. A pretty red haired elf in yellow robes, quite young, was sitting on her butt, shaking her head in disbelief.

Aedan, as he looked on, decided he wanted armor at least as effective as the Templar's massive plate.

"-where's Greagoir?" the old mage asked the young man.

A greying templar with a commanding aura spoke as he stood up, "I knew it. Blood magic. But to overcome so many... I never thought him capable of such power."

The black haired man shook his head and said angrily, "And I never thought you capable of such stupidity! You go to apprehend my apprentice, but you don't even tell me first?! What were you thinking?"

The old mage in green robes finally stood up and said, looking slightly embarrassed, "We decided your attachment to your apprentice would keep you from properly assessing the situation. Perhaps we were wrong."

The old mage turned to the templar who had spoken before and asked, "Are you all right, Greagoir?"

"As good as can be expected, given the circumstances!" Greagoir pointed an armored finger at the old mage, accusing, "If you had let me act sooner, this would not have happened! Now we have a blood mage on the loose, and no way to track him down!"

The yellow robed elven mage spoke for the first time, "Jowan isn't particularly fleet of foot. You should be able to catch him, still."

The young, black haired, red robed mage did not contain his look of rage as he shouted at the girl, though his tone was gentler than Aedan expected, "And you! What exactly was going on in your freshly-Harrowed head?! Why did you do this, Neria?"

Aedan saw deep hurt followed by a panic followed by a desperate hope cross the girl's face before she tried to placate the man, "Daylen, no, I did what Irving told me to! I did the right thing, I did!"

The old man, Irving, put his hand on the much younger man's shoulder and told him, "It's true. Your apprentice, former apprentice, did as I asked. Let me fill you in. Lily, the initiate, was carrying on with Jowan, and saw your three year notice, not realizing we'd already discussed his situation. She told him he was to be made tranquil, and they hatched a plot to destroy Jowan's phylactory and escape the Circle. But they needed a rod of fire for their plan, and enlisted the help of the new mage to get it. Neria came right to me and told me everything. But if we simply caught Jowan, then he really would be made tranquil, and the initiate would not be punished at all. So I told her to go along with their plan, and Greagoir and I would cut them off here. But then-"

"Then I felt a large burst of magic unconnected to the fade and came to investigate," Daylen finished. "Blood magic is self contained, it doesn't interact with the fade at all. I can't sense if a mage has ever used it, and so I had no idea he even knew how. What a crying shame."

Greagoir shook his head and spoke loudly, "Where is the girl?"

The priestess shuddered and called out, "I, I am here, sir."

The templar strode over to her and almost shouted, "You helped a blood mage! Look at all he's hurt!"

Daylen looked furious as he helped Neria up and spun on the Chantry woman, saying gravely, "You should not have told Jowan what you read. Your love has killed him, and perhaps you both. At least as much as he has done it to himself."

The priestess simply hung her head.

After a moment, she looked at Greagoir and said clearly, "Knight Commander... I... I was wrong. I was accomplice to a... a blood mage. I will accept any punishment you see fit. Even... Even Aeonar."

Greagoir made a disgusted noise and shouted, "Get her out of my sight!" He turned to Neria and pointed, "And you! You were in a repository of magicks that were locked away for a reason."

The old mage asked, "Did you take anything important from the repository?"

"Of course not," Neria replied.

Greagoir was still angry, however, and shouted, "But your antics have made a mockery of this circle! What are we to do with you?"

Daylen looked at Greagoir quizzically. "What in Thedas are you talking about, Greagoir? She was acting under Irving's orders."

"And this improves the situation?" Greagoir asked angrily.

"Yes?" Daylen asked.

"The phylactery chamber is forbidden to all save Irving and I," he said, as if this piece of information solved everything.

"I had my reasons," Irving interjected, crossing his arms.

"You're not _all knowing_ Irving! You have no idea how much influence this blood mage might have had!"

"I don't think Jowan had much influence, not nearly as much as he must have been influenced. There must be more blood mages in the Circle," Daylen posited.

"Then we will be counting on you to help us deal with them, Daylen," Greagoir told him.

Suddenly, Duncan put a hand on Aedan's shoulder and walked him into the room.

"Knight-Commander, if I may," Duncan began. "Not only did I come seeking aid for my recruit here, and for more mages to join the King's Army, but I am always on the lookout for worthy recruits to join my own order. Irving spoke quite highly of this young mage, as well as this enchanter, and I would like the both of them to join the Warden ranks."

Greagoir spun on Irving in an instant. " _What!?_ You've promised him _two_ Grey Wardens!? Neria is one thing, but Daylen? You've promised him _Daylen!?_ "

"He has served the Circle well, and his talent would make him an excellent Warden," Irving stated.

"No doubt!" Greagoir agreed, angrily. "His talent makes him an excellent _Senior Enchanter_!"

Duncan tried to ameliorate Greagoir, saying, "We look for dedication in our recruits. Fighting the darkspawn requires such dedication, often at the expense of all else."

Greagoir looked placated for a second, before he grew angry once more. "Were it any other mage, I might allow this, but we are talking about Daylen here, not some random enchanter. I'm certain I do not need to remind you that he is the youngest senior enchanter in the history of this circle! He is integral to the circle operation, he-"

"Has enough untapped potential to make you fear letting him out into Fereldan? Has knowledge you don't want him to be able to use?" Irving finished for him.

"If the Grey Wardens need me, then I must go," Daylen told Greagoir.

"Must I invoke the Rite of Conscription, Knight-Commander?" Duncan asked.

"I will not let you take both! Not Daylen and Neria both. Would you really conscript both of them at once?" Greagoir tried to bargain.

Duncan considered this for a moment. "Alright. I will not force both. But the Grey Wardens need Daylen. He will be a Warden."

"Fine. Oh, Maker, I need a drink. But there is a blood mage to catch," Greagoir conceded, and then motioned to the templars standing by him.

After Greagoir left, Aedan finally spoke, to the whole room at once, "Do you have any clothes I could wear, that aren't robes?"

Duncan answered, "Yes, I have some in my pack. After you change, we will be leaving."

He and Aedan went back upstairs, leaving the newest recruit alone with the long quiet Neria.

She was not holding back her tears.

Daylen walked to her and held the long haired elf in his arms as she sobbed into him.

"Neria, this is very important. A disaster is coming for the tower. If you cannot escape after I leave, be ready to fight or to hide. Against what, I do not know. But I must gamble that you will be the almost."

"I understand," Neria said, still crying, but not uncontrollably.

"Neria, if I never see you again, there are things you must know."

"Daylen?"

"Quiet and listen. I've watched you grow into a woman, as well as a primal master. I've always looked at you as a daughter. Until recently. I've raised you for almost seven years now. These things you know. But I've never told you before, because as master and apprentice, it was forbidden."

" You mean... Daylen, is it true?"

"I love you, Neria. As a man loves a woman, I love you. I could not leave without telling you."

"Daylen, I love you too!" Neria sobbed. "I've loved you for so long, I thought... I never thought this day would come. I thought you didn't... But I was wrong, I'm so glad!"

Neria burst into sobs again, eventually getting out, "But now you're leaving! I will never see you again, will I?"

"Maybe not," Daylen admitted. "But if you stay in this tower, you have a far lesser chance. I must go to combat the Blight, and so I will lose almost everything. Since everything I have is in this tower... I could not bear losing you. Remember this, Neria. Remember how much I love you."

At this, Daylen kissed the younger mage, slowly at first, before heating up, both of them trying to get across every feeling they'd had over the past years that they would not have a chance to share, now that he was leaving. Their lips pressed against each other hard enough to bruise, each of them running their tongues across every part of the others mouths, trying to memorize every facet of each other's body. Their hands roamed freely across one another, Neria moaning rather loudly, Daylen uncharacteristically quiet, but breathing quite heavily.

Eventually, Daylen pulled away, prompting an unconscious whine from Neria, who looked mortified she'd made such an embarrassing sound.

"Be mine," Daylen asked.

"Of course. I am yours already, and no man shall ever have me but you."

"No woman shall have me either, my love. I am yours, truly. I would take you right here but I think my senior warden is coming, which means I must leave. Remember. You must be ever vigilant. If you see a chance to escape the tower, take it. If not, prepare to do battle at any time, with anything or anybody. I know not whether the attack will come from without or within, so you must prepare for anything. I love you so much, Neria Surana."

"And I, you, Daylen Amell."

Daylen kissed her once more, roughly, but then sweetly. If she were to die, he wanted her last memory of him to be gentle and loving.

That was when Aedan came stumbling through the door frame, clutching his ears with his hands, a look of anguish scrunching his handsome features together.

"Are you alright, Warden?" Daylen asked.

Aedan held out his hand, silencing the mage. After a few moments, he stood back up, his face stoic once again.

"I am. But, I'm only a recruit, like you," Aedan responded.

"Well, you have the same look in your eye as Duncan, and you were recruited earlier, so that makes you the senior Warden according to me," Daylen denied humorously.

Aedan was curious about the so called look in his eye, but not very much, and couldn't bring himself to care enough to say anything.

"Alright," Aedan conceded.

Duncan and Irving soon found them, and Daylen said his goodbyes to his old mentor, and gave Neria a last furtive kiss before the group set off.

When they reached the shore, Duncan managed to acquire another two horses, and the party headed off for the south, with Muttlie keeping pace beside them, though he kept trying to jump on his master's horse to be near him, which would have toppled a less masterful rider. Muttlie had not been allowed inside the tower, and had missed his master terribly.

Duncan led the two recruits in silence, as Daylen was looking curiously at everything he saw, and Aedan was effectively dead to the world.

About an hour into the ride, Daylen shouted, "I totally forgot! I can use a haste spell on the horses!"

At this, he performed the spell, and they began moving much faster. Daylen had a bit of trouble staying on his horse, but never fell off outright.

"So, uh, how do you feel about mages?" Daylen asked Aedan somewhat apprehensively, evidently bored of the imperial highway.

Aedan thought for a moment, before saying simply, "Powerful. Wish we'd had one or twenty at the castle. Maybe someone else would have survived."

A look of sudden recognition and then self directed anger flashed through Daylen's face, had Aedan cared to look.

The two were silent for a time, riding their horses along the imperial highway at a blistering pace on account of the haste spell. They broke to make camp after night fell, and Duncan let the recruits talk while he listened.

"I never had a good chance to really introduce myself to you," Daylen started.

"No," Aedan concurred simply.

Daylen smiled and said, "Well, I am Daylen Amell, former senior enchanter, currently Warden recruit. Twenty four years of age, brought to the circle the day I was born. My uncle was a templar, I'm told, and he had to tear me out of my mother's arms to bring me to the tower. I apparently seemed to the man a full fledged mage already, and spirits would be after me like nothing else, so the tower was the only safe place. I'm told I was attacked three times by shades on the journey. Which is strange, spirits have a rather tough time changing vessels, to put it lightly. Anyway, I took the Harrowing, that's kind of like a mage test apprentices take, at 17, went on to teach many apprentices, before my personal studies merited a promotion. The other mage you saw, Neria. She was my protege, though our specialties are very different. My specialty allowed me to teach her the fundamentals she needed, and she researched what appealed to her on her own time. She's very talented, and a much better battle mage than I. I'm not quite sure why Duncan chose me. I must say, Fereldan is extremely boring. I was led to believe it was far more interesting. I prefer the tower, honestly."

Aedan didn't feel the need to hold back his laughter, but none escaped him. Normally, he would have at least chuckled.

Aedan used to talk at a handsome pace: quick-ish, but not too fast. Now he spoke slowly, though not unbearably so, and paused after each sentence. He said each word as if it were a great effort, "This is the Imperial Highway. Fereldan is her people. _They_ are interesting."

"I see. Might I ask your name and, ah, former, occupation?"

"Yes, I... I am a noble. My name is Aedan Cousland, second son of the Teyrn of Highever. Our castle was sacked by a trusted ally two days ago, while our troops were gone away to the south. I was the only survivor. Only my brother left before the attack," Aedan said without emotion, with a great heaviness, like every word had to be hauled up a hill before being spoken.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to talk about it, it's fine," Daylen apologized.

Aedan did not speak, leaving a Daylen to assume he shouldn't ever bring it up again. So, naturally, he immediately brought it back up.

"You seem to be quite put together after what happened. Why is that?" Daylen couldn't help but ask, not seeming to notice how insensitive a question it was.

"If you knew me before, you wouldn't say so," Aedan contradicted him.

They didn't talk the rest of the night.

On the road the next day, Daylen asked Duncan where exactly they were going.

"We will travel south, through the hinterlands, to the ruin of Ostagar, at the edge of the Korcari Wilds. The Tevinter Imperium built the fortress long ago to prevent the Wilders from invading the northern lowlands. It's fitting we make our stand here, even if we face a different foe within that forest. The king's forces have clashed with the darkspawn several times, but here is where the bulk of the horde will show itself. There are only a few Grey Wardens in Fereldan at the moment, but all of them are at Ostagar. This Blight must be stopped at there. If the darkspawn spread to the north, Fereldan will fall."

After a while of more silence, Aedan asked Daylen something that had been on his mind for about a day.

"Daylen, what spells can you cast?"

Daylen thought for a moment before asking, "How much do you know of the five schools of magic?"

Duncan, unbeknownst to the two recruits, raised an eyebrow.

"None," Aedan admitted easily.

"Allow me to educate you. There are five main schools of magic, though we only officially recognize four now. Some even say there must be a sixth, we have just not discovered it yet."

Aedan nodded for Daylen to continue.

"Well, of the five schools, they can be grouped as four and one, or two and two and one. The first two are known as the Schools of Matter. They are Creation, and its counterpart, Entropy. Creation focuses on the raw being of life and nature, the creation and manipulation of matter itself. For example," Daylen explained before holding his hand out to Aedan.

"Observe my hand. Dry. And now," Daylen said before pausing for a brief second, then saying, "It is covered in grease."

Aedan blinked in shock.

"Entropy, as you may have guessed, is focused on the opposing power of erosion, decay, and destruction. Observe my hand once again."

Aedan did, and raised his eyebrows as the hand grew dryer and dryer.

"It is easy to decay something without life, though oil is the simplest of all. It has to do with the volatility of the material. The same is true with creating. For example, with enough lyrium, a mage could even erode an entire fortress, or create one from nothing. But, there are much easier ways to destroy or create a building, so no sane mage would be fool enough to waste so much lyrium."

Aedan did not respond, so Daylen continued.

"The second two are the Schools of Energy. They are Spirit and its opposite, Primal. Spirit is the study of the invisible forces that surround us. It is the study of the Fade. It manipulates mana directly, and raw spell energy. Its counterpart, primal, focuses on the visible forces around us; fire, frost, lightning, wind. What you probably think of when you hear about magic."

Aedan grunted again in agreement.

"The fifth school... what do you know of blood magic?" Daylen asked nervously.

"The Chantry says it is evil. Andraste apparently said it is evil," Aedan said plainly.

"Do _you_ think it is evil?" Daylen asked, seriously.

"Two days ago, I did."

"Then, you believe differently now?"

"I don't know if I believe anything, anymore, Daylen."

"Then I will finish my explanation. Blood magic uses blood, life essence, to fuel spells. It was originally not thought to be its own school, and it was only used to bolster other magicks. But the Tevinter discovered certain spells could only be cast using blood as the source of power. It can control the minds of others by finding their sleeping minds in the Fade and influencing their thoughts while they dream. It can tear the Veil separating the physical world from the fade, letting spirits pass through directly. It can even forcibly control the blood of another, and thus their life itself, causing them to become a puppet of sorts.

"However, practicing blood magic makes it harder for one's mind to enter the Fade, as the power of physical life, life essence, does not, _cannot,_ exist within the Fade. Well, blood magic can still be used within the fade, in theory, but I shan't get into the metaphysical. To sum up, blood magic is the study of life essence as it pertains to spellcasting. At any rate, do you now understand basically about the schools of magic?"

Aedan was silent for a moment before asking simply, "The sixth school?"

Daylen lifted his finger as he explained, "Ah, yes. This is because the Schools of Matter and Energy each are comprised of two opposing schools. People ask, 'What larger school does blood magic belong to? Or is blood magic the larger school, and, if so, what are the two opposing schools it is comprised of?' These questions have existed since blood magic was discovered to be its own school, and will exist until they are answered."

Aedan rode in silence for a few minutes longer, before asking his original question again, "So what spells do you know?"

Daylen thought for a moment. "Well, as I've said, I taught many apprentices. As such, I know many spells. I attained the highest level of expertise in the Fereldan Circle in the School of Spirit, and I have achieved almost the same level of mastery in the Schools of Matter. I was the one who healed your wounds, by the way, as Wynne, our best healer, was already sent to Ostagar. Healing spells are part of the School of Creation, I assume you did not know that, though you may have guessed. Unfortunately, the School of Primal almost entirely eludes me. I only know most basic primal spells. My extreme expertise in one half of the School of Energy seems to limit my comprehension of the other half. My flame spells are known to occasionally transform into a sort of raw mana flame, which is marginally less effective at setting things ablaze, and far less efficient. It's rather complicated. I am quite good at healing, and debilitating enemies, but my means of directly damaging them are somewhat limited. Which means I'm not an enormous help in a large scale fight against mundane foes, unfortunately. Sorry."

Duncan, who was listening intently but silently until now, suddenly spoke up. "Aedan, it would seem Daylen is being rather modest. You have no way of knowing, but reaching even a basic level of mastery in all four schools of magic is considered as difficult as mastering one. To master three at such a young age, well, to say the least, it is completely unheard of. At least, this is what First Enchanter Irving told me. He intimated Daylen is easily his equal, even superior in many ways, and expressed that he would be bested in a fight."

Daylen blushed somewhat, though Aedan was not looking.

"Ah, what Duncan says is, err, true. While I am weaker against normal enemies, I excel in defeating other mages. I discovered a means to wrest control of owned mana, which would normally be impossible, and as such, I am able to cause the mana within another mage to rebel against them, and destroy the inside of their bodies. It is rather devastating, as mana flows, invisibly, through the body alongside blood, in a pattern that... I apologize, I won't give you another lecture. I just don't have many chances to teach another adult about my discoveries who doesn't already have their own theories. Ah, that's right, I forgot to mention. I'm most distinguished as a researcher of the fade, and of the School of Spirit.

"That is one of the reasons, well, probably the main reason, that Greagoir did not want me to leave the tower. I discovered, just a few months ago, the link between the School of Spirit and the School of Blood. A link, at any rate. Very very secret stuff, you know. Even Neria, my protege, remember, does not know. Us three, Greagoir, and Irving are the only ones in the world who know. The Chantry, well, and most countries, presumably, does not want this information leaking to the Imperium. It is of rather vital import to practitioners of blood magic. It... would be hard to explain to a non-mage."

"Understood," Aedan simply said. After a moment, he asked, "Is blood magic evil?"

Daylen thought for a few seconds before answering, "I don't think it's evil inherently. It can be used for evil purposes, as any weapon can, but it can also be used to protect others, as any weapon can. Blood magic is... complicated. Spirits teach it, but not all of it, and possessing only a portion of knowledge is more dangerous than any blood magic. There is still so much we do not understand. We may be missing an entire school of magic! Using blood magic is a fool's errand until more research can be done. And I certainly will not be performing it. So, I don't think it's evil. But it's very risky, and getting too ambitious in it is just as dangerous to its practitioners as their enemies."

There was a few more minutes of silence before Daylen spoke again.

"Do you believe in the Maker?" he asked Aedan.

"Maybe. He is absent, even if he exists. I don't know what I believe. Do you?" Aedan answered, not very enthusiastically.

"Not at all. I'm willing to change my mind given evidence, but there just isn't any. Andraste is the only one in history to ever personally know of His existence. I believe she was an amazingly powerful mage, and a calculating woman, and she made up the Maker as an excuse to wage war. Then again, I don't have any proof, either. So, as I've said, I'm willing to change my mind, given evidence. Maybe her ashes will be found or something, and I can inspect them. Not sure what I'd find, but legends say a pinch of her ashes could cure any illness. I don't see how that could be possible with owner-less magic, so if I saw that, maybe I'd change my mind about the whole thing. But there's practically no chance of anyone finding them; they've been lost for Ages."

Periodically, Muttlie would leave the entourage, only to return a few minutes later, carrying something in his teeth. Aedan would glance at the hound, and decided if Muttlie thought whatever it was was important, he'd keep it, so he never told the hound a thing. Daylen noticed this, and started thinking.

"Aedan, that dog is a Mabari warhound, right?"

Aedan nodded, his long hair hitting the back of his neck.

"So, he understands you, even when you don't say anything?"

"Usually," Aedan responded in his bored tone.

He loved Muttlie, but lately looking at him brought back the memories of all those that didn't make it out of that slaughter. He understood Muttlie thought he was angry at him, and that's why he kept trying to bring him presents. He decided he would explain to Muttlie everything that night, and the sun looked like it was starting to go down.

"But, how?" Daylen asked, bewildered.

"Don't know. Magic," Aedan suggested.

"Come on, mind linking magic is just a myth. There are quite a few lost magicks, you know, but sending thoughts to people directly? That's a fairy tale."

Aedan would have been quite happy to leave it at that, but Daylen had more to say. A lot more. And Aedan was one of the only people he'd ever talked to that never interrupted.

"But now that I'm no longer stuck in there, I'll be able to research the lost magicks! There's so many of them! Form shifting magic, warrior magic, construct magic, the living magic of the elves, there's so many I want to discover! The Blight takes priority, of course, but it's possible the Blight might end while I yet live. Maybe it'll end at Ostagar, who knows? Do you know anything about the forgotten magical arts, Duncan?"

Duncan spoke for the first time in hours, "I'm afraid not. Though I don't doubt the Dalish will make an appearance during the course of the Blight, so you might ask them then."

Daylen seemed satisfied with this, and the group had a few more minutes of silence.

"So, Aedan, I bet you're wondering how the lost magicks fit into the five schools."

He was not, but that wouldn't stop the expositional onslaught Daylen was about to unleash, so he didn't even bother saying anything.

"Well, most lost magicks aren't really spells, they're rituals. They encompass multiple schools, but they aren't themselves schools. Many scholars believe the lost magicks may have something to do with the missing school, as attempts to replicate them have all failed for centuries. Many lost magicks have to do with life of some sort. Manipulating plant life, changing bodily forms, creating intelligent magical constructs, modifying the muscle of one's own body, all these things have some connection with life. So, I believe that the twin school of blood magic has something to do with all of these lost magicks. Of course, there are other lost magicks that don't fit the hypothesis, like prophecy magic or illusion magic. They might have a connection that isn't as obvious, however.

"What was my point again? Oh yes, rituals! For example to shape shift into a bear or something, new mass must be created, as a bear is bigger than a man. But to truly understand a bear, some form of spirit magic would have to be used, I think. And elven warrior magic, it modifies the body to become stronger, but I've read it also involved shielding the body with some sort of fade barrier, which seems rather impossible, based on what I know of the fade. Which is a lot. I'm a fade researcher, after all. Crazy place, the fade."

Daylen seemed to run out of steam then, and eventually, night fell and they made camp.

By the fire, across from Daylen, Aedan finally found what Muttlie had decided was the best gift, and he smiled for the first time since Anathea died.

Muttlie had been carrying a frosted cake in his mouth for the past four hours.

When the hound set it down, he barked quietly and looked very apologetic.

"It's not your fault, Muttlie. There was nothing you could have done better. I don't blame you at all," Aedan comforted his dog in as gentle a tone as Daylen had ever heard from the stoic man.

If Neria died... He just couldn't imagine the pain. He talked even more than normal because he knew Neria likely would die, and he didn't want to think about it.

Aedan put his hand on Muttlie's head and rubbed, before saying, "I'm not upset with you, I'm just sad."

Muttlie whined and scratched at the ground, then scratched at Aedan's thigh, before looking up at Aedan and cocking his head to the side.

Aedan blinked away the tears that were about to form and said softly, "No, I... I don't think so, Muttlie."

Daylen, ever interested in how the two communicated, asked more gently than normal, "What did he say?"

Aedan sighed slowly out of his mouth before telling Daylen, "He asked if I wanted to play. When he's sad, playing makes him feel better. That's what he told me."

Daylen wanted to cry, that dog was so adorable.

Aedan searched the cake for any non slobbered on part, and found just one bit of frosting, which he ate, to Muttlie's happy barking.

"You know, Muttlie, just because it's _your_ favorite food, that doesn't mean it's _my_ favorite food. Thank you for the present. You can have the rest; I'm stuffed. And keep any more found cake to yourself."

Daylen dreamt of a spirit wearing Neria's face, who he promptly killed. He sauntered about the fade, and decided, as he sometimes did, to walk towards the black city until he woke up.

Daylen was one of a select few mages both strong enough and knowledgeable enough to manipulate fade paths, and as he walked toward the black city, new ground appeared beneath his feet. This took mammoth amounts of mana, which was more or less the point. If Daylen didn't use enough mana, he would begin to store up too much. This wasn't actually very dangerous, but it gave him a stomach ache, and he had more than enough mana for any conceivable threat, anyways.

He did not explain to his two companions just how unordinary he actually was. He had more mana than all the other senior enchanters combined. He didn't know why he was like this. He'd been different since he was born. He wondered just how amazing Aedan was, for Mouse to say they were equal in power. And what exactly was different about him? He resigned himself to figuring it out later.

Aedan dreamt of bloody figures he could not save, and a laughing man he had to kill.

Duncan dreamt of a roaring dragon, exuding corruption.

All of them woke up with something they had to do.

After they'd been traveling a while, Aedan asked again, "So, what spells can you use?"


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, they finally reached Ostagar, and found the king himself, wearing gleaming golden plate armour and a massive great-sword, waiting for them.

"King Cailan!" Duncan said, surprised. "I didn't expect-"

"A royal welcome?" Cailan finished. "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!"

"Not if I could help it, your Majesty," Duncan said solemnly.

"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all! Glorious!" Cailan said with childlike glee. "Your fellow wardens tell me you found two new, promising recruits! I take it this is them?"

"Allow me to introduce you, your majesty," Duncan offered, but Cailan waved him off.

"No need, Duncan. It is good to see you again, Aedan. I've not met you since the last tourney I held. I would never have guessed Bryce would allow you to join the ranks of the Grey Wardens, but it seems I have been mistaken?" Cailan mused.

"He was not pleased, your majesty, but there was little choice. I bring important news," Aedan replied. His words were heavy, but the kind demanded a certain level of effort. Cailan seemed not to notice his somber mood, however.

"No need to bother with this your majesty business. You are a Grey Warden now, or soon will be. At any rate, is this news about Bryce? Fergus has been concerned about him," Cailan admitted.

"He won't be coming, Cailan. He died along with Eleanor, and everyone else, when our castle was sacked by Arl Howe," Aedan said emotionlessly.

"What? I can't believe it!" The king shouted. "Howe thinks he can get away with such treason? I will see him hanged for this treachery! Aedan, you have my word, when we are done here, we will march north and see Howe brought to justice."

Cailan paused to take a breath, before continuing, "No doubt you wish to tell your brother, but he is scouting in the Wilds and will not return until after the battle is over, I'm afraid."

Aedan looked down, and said, "So long as Howe comes to justice."

Aedan looked to his apparent subordinate, and finding the Senior Enchanter troubled over how to talk to the king of Fereldan, introduced him. He did not want to talk so much, but it was the king, no matter how childish the man was. "At any rate, this is my friend, Daylen. A master enchanter with no equal, whose spells will devastate any rival darkspawn mages."

Cailan looked at Daylen with a certain amount of intrigue, and said, "A mage then? We have too few of them here, even after the reinforcements arrived yesterday. I'm certain the Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks."

Daylen looked anxious, eyes looking everywhere save the king, but an elbow to the ribs from Aedan forced a, "Thank you, your majesty."

The king soon departed, leaving the original party on their own. As they walked into camp and across the bridge leading to the camp, Duncan began to explain to the recruits about the Joining ritual.

"The Joining itself is brief, but some preparation is required. We must begin soon. You may explore the camp for an hour at the most. Aedan, you will need to requisition armour from the quartermaster during this time. When you are ready, seek out a Grey Warden by the name of Alistair, and tell him it is time to summon the other recruits. There are two others who arrived before you, and you must all be present for the preparations."

The recruits nodded, and parted ways with Duncan. They had barely walked ten feet before Daylen caught sight of a mage he knew.

"Wynne!" he hollered happily. "It's good to see you again!"

Wynne, a tall, aging woman, white haired, stood beside a tree along the border of the magi encampment.

"It is wonderful to see you, too, Daylen," the she smiled genuinely as she spoke politely. "I'm told you are to become a Grey Warden, young man. You do the Circle proud."

"Thank you, Wynne. I will try not to disappoint anyone," Daylen vowed.

"No doubt you will succeed," Wynne reassured. "And who is this fine young fellow?"

Wynne had certainly noticed the positioning of the two men. A tall, imposing man wearing rough clothes with an obviously enchanted blade at the hip, standing in front of a tall, yet unimposing, mage. Daylen did not move in front of the other man, even when speaking, and in fact seemed to be deferring to him.

When Aedan heard her question, he started imperceptibly, before saying regally, if forced, "I am Aedan Cousland, Warden recruit, Lady Wynne. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Pardon my manners; I have much on my mind."

"It's quite alright, young man," Wynne assured him. "Duncan is not a man easily impressed. You should be proud."

"I beg a thousand pardons, but I have business I must attend to. Fare you well, Wynne," Aedan excused himself.

Aedan headed to the quartermaster, and Daylen followed right behind as he shouted a goodbye to Wynne.

After a brief but heated discussion about whether any full plate armor was available, Aedan found himself in a steel suit of heavy chain mail. He still felt somewhat unprotected, but no better armor could be found and fitted on such short notice. Daylen stayed nearby during the whole process. Aedan didn't bother with asking why.

The two, more specifically Daylen, asked around to find out where the Grey Warden Alistair might be found, and in a few minutes, they spotted him in the northeastern ruins of an old temple, talking to a red robed mage.

"-the _grumpy one,"_ they heard Alistair say.

The dark skinned Senior Enchanter waved his arms about as he spoke.

" _Enough!_ I will speak to the woman, _if I must._ Get out of my way, _fool._ "

As the mage walked off, Daylen recognized him as one of the grumpier Senior Enchanters.

The warrior, presumably Alistair, turned to the pair and said, "You know, one good thing about the Blight is that it brings people together."

Aedan found it humorous, but no chuckle attempted to make itself known.

Daylen, on the other hand, smiled, and said, "Don't worry, that mage is an eternal sourpuss. It was nothing personal, I could tell."

Alistair laughed and said, "Well, that's a relief. Maybe my glibness did me credit after all!"

He looked at the two and their blank faces before realizing they probably hadn't heard that part.

"Well, I guess you had to be there," he covered for himself. "Wait, I know who you are! You're the new recruits, from Highever and the Circle. Duncan sent word. He spoke quite highly of the both of you. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Alistair, the Grey Warden, though I suspect you knew that. As the junior member of the Order, I'll be accompanying you as you prepare for the Joining."

Aedan simply nodded, before telling Alistair, "Duncan said it's time to summon the other recruits."

"Of course. I'll collect them, and we'll all meet at the bonfire."

A short while later, all the recruits were together.

A prematurely balding knight, a cutpurse, a mage, and a noble. They introduced themselves, Duncan explained their two missions, and it was off to the Wilds. A vial of darkspawn blood for each of the new recruits, and old treaties from an abandoned Warden outpost. Easy enough.

* * *

Jory, the knight, muttered under his breath constantly as they made their way through the gate and out into the wilds. Unfortunately for the large man, Aedan's hearing was in one of its states, and every word the knight said was like he was lightly yelling it.

Aedan heard things like, "This is ridiculous," "They must test to see if we can kill darkspawn? An insult!," and, "Maker, it's freezing out here."

They met a dying soldier not too far from the gates, who was quickly healed by Daylen's magic, and the resulting conversation gave away Jory's true reason for his attitude.

Put simply, he was terrified.

"Did you hear? An entire patrol of seasoned men, wiped out by darkspawn!"

"Calm down, Ser Jory," Alistair placated. "We'll be fine if we're careful."

"Those soldiers were careful," Jory argued, "and they were still overwhelmed. How many can the five of us slay? A dozen? A hundred? There's an entire _army_ in these forests."

"There are darkspawn about," Alistair admitted, "but we're in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde."

"How do you know?" Jory denied quickly. "I am not a coward, but... this is foolish and reckless. We should go back."

They had not even seen a single darkspawn, and he was already suggesting they turn tail and run. Things did not seem to be boding well for this man.

Daylen shook his head helplessly as Aedan remained passive.

"Know this:" Alistair began. "All Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn. Whatever their cunning, I _guarantee_ they won't take us by surprise. That's why I'm here."

Daveth the thief spoke up, "You see, Sir Knight? We _might_ die, but at least we'll be warned about it first."

Daylen chuckled as Jory responded, "That is... reassuring?"

Continuing on, the group finally encountered their first darkspawn: two hurlocks armed with sword and shield, with three genlock archers supporting them from the top of a hill.

Aedan, suffering flashbacks of his loved ones being shot, was drawn immediately to the sight of archers, and made a beeline up the hill towards them. He blocked the arrows he could with his blades and let his heavy chain mail handle the rest as he charged toward them.

The moment when the missiles reached his armor, he deftly twisted, changing the trajectory of the arrows enough that they could pierce his armor. He learned the trick from Ser Gilbert, though his childhood friend had explained he couldn't actually perform the maneuver at the right time, and it was only his theory. It only worked with chain mail as well-the links provided a means to 'catch' the arrowhead before turning it aside. Splint mail, scale male, plate armor, leather-the trick did not work with these. Though heavy plate would turn aside arrows without any help, so the trick only meant chain was superior to other armors like it.

For what seemed to be the hundredth time Aedan cursed himself for not preparing any armor for war. Without his power, he preferred leather armor, as it kept him light and limber, but with the power, armor was practically weightless. He cursed himself for not preparing for this before it was too late.

By the time he finished cursing himself, he ad already split the genlock archers to pieces. Though they had a beastly strength, it was no match for Aedan's own, and he made short work of the three without even noticing. Daylen had paralyzed one of the hurlocks, trapping the other in a sort of collapsing mind cage, and they were disposed of quickly by Jory and Daveth. Alistair held back saying he was only there to guide them, and to collect the blood.

As Alistair did his second duty, retrieving the blood of the creatures, Aedan felt the distinct sensation of being watched. He decided it wasn't worth alerting the group over. If he could fight it, he could, if not, they'd be dead anyways. He suspected who-or what-ever it was either wasn't confident of victory, or wasn't hostile to begin with, so he ignored the unpleasant tingling on the back of his neck whenever he felt it.

They trudged through the swamp, finding evidence of two missionaries lost there, letters they had carried, a lockbox in a campfire for someone named Jetta in Redcliffe, and even a hurlock emissary.

The other recruits and Alistair finally got a firsthand look of Daylen's unique spell that caused the mana in the opposing mage to rebel. As soon as the magic hit the darkspawn, the emissary fell over like a sack of potatoes in an instant, dead.

With a raging Aedan and a focused Daylen on one side of the fight, indeed every battle ended quickly and easily. They found a dead soldier with a pouch of ashes and an excerpt from a book of myths. It referred to a wish that might be granted by a spirit. When Aedan read this, his eyes flashed dangerously.

Daylen noticed, and wanted to keep Aedan's hopes low.

"Even if it's true, the wish would have to be within his power to grant. Trust me, I talk with spirits a lot; if I can't do it, neither can he. Thedan magic and spirit magic is different, but not wildly so. It wouldn't be able to-"

"I KNOW!" Aedan shouted, but he quickly calmed down. "I'm sorry, I just... I know. Maybe this could be helpful for... your research."

Daylen thought for a moment. "I guess so. I'm confident in my abilities. No spirit will best me. Even if it turns out to be a trap of some sort, which it almost certainly is, I'll be fine."

Aedan, Alistair, and the other recruits, excluding Daylen, stayed by a Chasind campfire while they waited. They were extremely surprised when Jory sat on a log and it broke open, revealing a treasure trove of Chasind weapons, armor, and other valuable goods.

"So, Aedan, you're sure Daylen doesn't need help? He's been gone a while," Daveth asked the forlorn noble.

"Certain," he said simply.

Right after, they heard a loud sigh in the distance, and they were up and ready to go in seconds.

Aedan eyed Daylen, who looked none the worse for wear, and asked, "Anything interesting?"

Daylen shrugged and said, "Maybe to someone who's not me. There was a spell-blood magic-on the rocks the note spoke of, and it used the leftover life energy from the ashes to tear the veil open long enough for the spirit to escape physically. It's not all that uncommon of a spell. Some ancient blood mage's idea of a practical joke, I suspect. It was all more or less what I expected, to be honest," Daylen remarked, bored.

Alistair looked stricken when he heard there was blood magic at play, but Aedan spoke first. "Get your wish?"

Daylen laughed and pulled up his robes enough to show his boots. "He left behind these nifty enchanted boots when I killed him. Just my size, too. What are the chances? I was just thinking my old ones were a bit worn out, so to be honest, I guess he sort of fulfilled a wish, in a way."

He glanced at Aedan's expression before saying, "But, not intentionally, no. It was complete bogus."

Aedan continued to glare.

"Onward march, then," Daylen suggested.

They had one more fight with some darkspawn, and a hurlock alpha that Aedan bisected had a nice enchanted dagger that he took as a spoil. The family blade was still fine, but his dagger was already being corroded by darkspawn blood, and wouldn't be of much use any longer, anyway.

Alistair told them the Warden outpost was just up ahead, and Aedan felt the eyes again, the tingle on the back of his neck intensifying. A confrontation was imminent. He took care not to appear suspicious as the party searched the ruin, to no avail. Any chests were long rotten, and smashed to pieces. There was no Grey Warden seal he could find

Just as he was about to ask Alistair if he sensed anything Grey Warden-y, a voice from above them wafted down.

"Well, well, what have we here?" the voice said. It was a woman's voice, very pleasant in its tone and quality, but vaguely threatening. Were it a week prior, Aedan would have already been drawing up plans to bed her. Now, he simply looked for the source of the voice.

They found an extremely alluring woman, dressed in what seemed to be rags and leather strips, with an assortment of belt buckles. Her cleavage, bountiful as it was, could not be any more obvious if she were nude, and her messy bun completed the barbarian look. Aedan found her very attractive, especially her full lips and yellow eyes. Though he was attracted, he could not bring himself to care at the moment.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder?" she touched her chin with one finger in a faux expression of pondering. "A scavenger, poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?"

Aedan assumed Alistair would answer, and he did not, and so the witch, he assumed she was a witch, became upset.

"What say you, hmm? Scavenger, or intruder?"

"Given choice? Intruder," Aedan answered seriously, though his words might have been taken in jest were Alistair to have said them. He did not explain further.

Daylen added, "I agree. We weren't invited, so if these Wilds are yours, then intrude we do. Not that you do a good job keeping intruders out, clearly. There's two separate armies in these forests."

The girl glared at Daylen, and Aedan suddenly realized with what would have been a start, three days earlier, that this girl was likely more than just a couple years younger than he and Daylen. Her self confidence and air of mystery made her seem years older, but her almost childlike anger made her seem even younger than she truly was.

"I dislike you, Circle dog," the girl said frankly to Daylen.

"The feeling is mutual, swamp harpy," Daylen returned as viciously.

There was clearly a hatred forming between the two mages already. Daylen wore Circle robes, and the girl picked right up on that. She was dressed provocatively, but in a robe-like way. She looked like an apostate to Aedan, but maybe mages could identify each other, or something. If any mage could, it was Fade researcher Daylen, from what he'd heard.

"We shouldn't be indulging her, you two. She looks Chasind, which means others may be nearby," Alistair cautioned.

The girl latched right on, mocking, "Ooh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you!"

Alistair narrowed his eyes. "Yes, swooping is bad."

The girl's next insult was interrupted by Daveth, who was clearly frightened. "She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She'll turn us into toads!"

Daylen rolled his eyes as he said, "Please, Daveth. If such magic existed, shapeshifting wouldn't exactly be a lost art, would it?"

When no one said anything, Daylen explained, "Sorry, I'm still not used to talking to non-mages. I forget, sometimes."

The girl looked sharply at the group before looking right at Aedan.

"Surely, you are not _all_ fools. You there, handsome lad; tell me your name and I shall tell you mine. Let us be civilized."

Aedan stared for a second before offering not impolitely, but without any real emotion, "Aedan Cousland, at your service. A pleasure to meet you."

The girl gestured to herself as she replied in a tone Aedan assumed she incorrectly thought was more friendly than seductive, "Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me, Morrigan."

Daylen quietly added, "Or harpy, either works."

"Quiet, you Chantry servant. Allow me to guess your purpose: You sought something housed within this once-tower, something that is here no longer?"

"'Here no longer?'" Alistair repeated. "You stole them, didn't you? You're some kind of sneaky... witch-thief!"

"How very eloquent," Morrigan mocked. "How exactly does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily it seems," Alistair stabbed back. "Those treaties are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them."

Morrigan shook her head, no, and said, "I will not, for 'twas not I who removed them. I-invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish. I am not threatened."

Aedan thought that with her stutter, it was fairly obvious she was trying to convince herself of that more than any of them. She must have seen what Daylen did to that emissary.

"Then just who did take them, exactly?" Daylen asked suspiciously.

"'Twas my mother, in fact."

Before the arguing inevitably ensued, Aedan asked, "Can you take us to her?"

Morrigan smiled at him. "There is a sensible request. I like you."

"I'd be careful. First it's 'I like you!' then 'Zap!' Frog ti-" Alistair was cut off by a stare from Daylen. " _Not_ frog time. Something equally unpleasant, at any rate."

"She'll put us all in the pot, she will!" Daveth insisted. "Just you watch."

Jory finally spoke up, "If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'll be a nice change."

Morrigan turned to walk away, only Aedan following immediately. A few seconds later, the rest started to move as well. As they walked, Aedan found himself staring at the girl's rather shapely behind. He allowed himself the luxury, though he was more admiring it than lusting for it. They walked passed the remnants of the tower and across a rickety bridge, and another mile or so of swamp, before they reached a raggedy hut.

Aedan heard Daylen quip to someone, "That hut looks like it's seen better days. Like, maybe a hundred years ago."

They saw an old, wrinkled woman with disheveled grey hair, dressed in rags, waiting for them, gazing with curiosity, yet a sort of quiet, well hidden disdain, as well. Aedan wasn't sure if the others noticed it.

"Greetings, Mother," Morrigan began. "I bring before you five Grey Wardens who-"

"I see them, girl," Morrigan's mother interrupted, somewhat rudely. She glanced over them quickly, before appraising, "Mmm, much as I expected."

Alistair laughed a little in disbelief and said incredulously, "Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?"

"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe," the woman said in annoyance, and joy. "Shut one's eyes tight, or open one's arms wide, either way, one's a fool."

Aedan agreed. If he'd been more distrustful of Howe, if he'd followed up on his suspicious behavior...

Daylen said rather loudly to the group, "I met a Tevinter prophetess once, turned to stone for telling the unpleasant future. That's what it claimed, anyway. The point is, the harpy's mother might really have been expecting us."

"She's a Witch, I tell you," Daveth insisted again. "We shouldn't be talking to her!"

"Quiet, Daveth," Jory scolded, his angered expression doing an almost perfect job of hiding his extreme fear. "If she's really a witch, do you want to make her _mad_?"

The old woman smiled and complimented, "There's a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant in the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will."

She walked towards Aedan, who, despite being the de facto leader of the group, had yet to speak.

"And what of you? Do you possess a different viewpoint? Or do you believe as the others do?"

Aedan a week prior might have been somewhat scared to face what could be a powerful witch, or perhaps he might have responded with some sort of joke. Now, he just wanted to get everything over with. He didn't waste energy believing in things anymore.

"What I believe," he told her, "is that you have something we need. At the moment, my beliefs end there."

She looked up at his tall form with an odd stare for just a second. He detected numerous fleeting, shocking, and disturbing feelings flit across her face imperceptibly. Approval, trust, eagerness, smugness, and even a sort of hunger he couldn't place specifically. He wasn't sure if he would prefer it be lust, physical hunger, or desire for something else. They all seemed pretty bad. For a second he wondered if she somehow knew about his mysterious power, but decided quickly that it didn't matter right now. She didn't seem the type for plain answers. The rage that still burned in his mind made thinking too hard or long impossible, anyways.

"Fair, enough," she said.

She moved to return to the hut, but spoke as she walked, in a way that indicated she was talking to herself, but wanted everyone to hear it. "So much about that one is uncertain. And yet, I find that I believe... do I? Why, it seems I do." She laughed.

"So, _this_ is a dreaded witch of the wilds?" Alistair mused.

The old lady spun around. "Witch of the wilds, uh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it. Oh, how she dances under the moon!"

"They did not come to listen to your _wild tales_ , Mother," Morrigan seemed a little embarrassed.

"True," came the reply.

She went into the hut, leaving the team alone with Morrigan.

Interestingly, she had seemed somewhat embarrassed, even unconfident, ever since her mother became involved. Aedan briefly wondered just what that woman had done to instill such conflict in her daughter.

Morrigan spoke directly to him, "I... my mother can be a bit..."

Aedan cut her off with a shake of his head, denying her statement. He surprised himself by comforting her, "I am grateful you offered to take us here, Morrigan."

Morrigan blushed imperceptibly, though Aedan noticed, and was about to respond, when Alistair ever so gracefully entered the conversation.

"I don't trust her, Aedan. I think these two are apostates; mages living away from the Circle."

Daylen snorted, "That much is clear."

Aedan briefly tried to convince Alistair, "Chantry business is not ours, Alistair. Wardens ally with everyone possible, yes? Who knows if we'll need their help again someday?"

Alistair tried to disagree, but Aedan turned out to have more to say than he had in hours. "Not to mention, we are their guests. It could not hurt to be gracious ones."

Morrigan's mother stepped out of the hut, carrying what seemed to be magic parchment. "Manners! Always in the last place you look. Like stockings."

She handed Aedan the treaties, and as he got a closer look at her, he wondered how such an old woman had given birth to such a young woman. Magic was likely heavily involved.

"Your precious Grey Warden seal wore off countless years ago. I have protected these."

Alistair was about to start yelling at the woman, but was stopped by her words before he started.

Aedan nodded. "Then you have done us a great service. I cannot pay you in return but perhaps I can negotiate for some sort of compensation on your behalf, if that is your wish."

Every word was tough to say, but he felt compelled by his noble education to do this. That's what he thought, annyway.

The old woman laughed and Alistair stared incredulously at Aedan.

"Your payment will be an answer."

Aedan nodded his approval, though he was confused as to what question he possessed an answer to was worth years of protecting precious documents.

"My question is this: Why offer to pay me for my service? I do not see your senior Warden over there offering compensation."

Aedan wondered why she was so curious, but gave an honest answer none the less.

"I believe there should be balance in all things. One of the only things my tutor tried to teach me that I remember and live by." Aedan finished by narrowing his eyes at her, trying to convey his suspicion to her.

Somehow, she was using influential magic. It must be. He would never have brought up Aldous on his own, he was confident. Such as the case was, something must have influenced his words, and willingness to give them up. He would have to ask Daylen later what magic could do such a thing.

Morrigan's mother laughed very loudly, several times. She seemed either pleased with Aedan or with herself. Perhaps both. To herself, apparently, she remarked, "I believe, I do, I do! He will do _nicely_."

She suddenly stopped her derangement and looked at Aedan.

"Oh, do not mind me," she interrupted herself with more laughter. "You _have_ what you _came_ for."

Morrigan spoke up with a tiny trepidation on her face that Aedan was confident only he saw, "Shall I escort you out of the woods, then?"

Aedan nodded. "Many thanks."

Alistair groaned quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

Morrigan led them up a different path than the one they came down, the already-eerie trees seeming to grow even more threatening as they heard her mother's insane cackling refuse to lessen with the dwindling daylight.

The group of six was silent back to the fort, until Aedan thanked the mysterious Morrigan kindly once the gate was just barely in sight. She nodded and turned to leave. Aedan could tell from her gait that she was unnerved as well as nervous about something. He could also tell that she might have some sort of a crush on him. He reminded himself she was much younger than himself, perhaps not even yet a woman. She made herself out to be a mystery figure, but he could tell part of her only wanted to be remarkable. He knew the feeling. It was one of the reasons he wanted to be a Grey Warden, back when he still had a choice in the matter. In regards to her possible crush on him, he found he did not care. With a body like hers, he certainly didn't mind. But the rage simmering in the back of his head made it so he was busy enough keeping himself in check. He wasn't exactly lusting after her, and even if he found her in his bed this night, or tent as the case may be, he doubted he'd try anything. Not after the massacre at Highever. Not after Anathea.

But he was curious about something. As the party returned to the camp, he asked Daylen, "How strong do you think Morrigan is?"

Daylen narrowed his eyes slightly. "Just so you know, I'm probably one of the only mages in Thedas who could possibly have an answer to that question. Lucky for you, I'm me. Assuming she doesn't practice blood magic, I'd say she's on the same general level as the First Enchanter. As you know, blood magic doesn't draw power from the Fade, so there's really no way to tell the strength of a blood mage. But her connections to the Fade are quite present. Her fluctuations are extremely deep. She is very strong."

Aedan was used to Daylen answering the question he asked, along with four others he hadn't, so he just asked another.

"Could you beat her?"

If Aedan bothered to look, he would have seen Daylen's glare. Based on his following words, however, he could easily guess glaring preceded it.

"Have some _faith_ , Aedan. Unless she also happens to be an even more devout researcher of the Fade than I am, she wouldn't stand a chance."

Aedan nodded, inconsistent with the words he said at the same time, "Then Irving also wouldn't stand a chance?"

Daylen flushed with embarrassment as he said quietly, "Considering I'm a good deal stronger than Irving, I'd say that was an accurate statement."

Aedan knew he didn't have to say anything for Daylen to keep talking, so he just waited for a second.

"I am much stronger than her, in terms of raw magical power, yes. And in mage combat, I assume."

Aedan knew nothing more would come of that particular line of questioning, but he was still curious about that girl.

"Do you think it's possible she isn't even twenty years old, yet?" he asked. With his current mostly emotionless tone, this sentence sounded a bit funny.

Daylen spun on Aedan. "What!? It seemed like she was, at the very least, our age! Maybe even thirty, or more!"

Alistair was also confused, but for a different reason. "Wait, wait, just how old is 'our age?'"

"Twenty five," Aedan started.

"Twenty four," Daylen added.

"I'm twenty seven, myself," Daveth continued.

"I'm thirty four," Jory looked uncomfortable.

"And I'm thirty, on the nose," Alistair finished.

"There's no way that harpy is younger than me, is there?" Daylen asked Aedan.

"My guess is nineteen," Aedan said solemnly.

The ensuing argument lost Aedan's attention, quickly. He wondered if he should have asked Daylen about Morrigan's mother instead of her age. It would have been more useful.

Aedan wasn't paying much attention as Daylen spoke to the Kennelmaster and muzzled a hound for him. It didn't escape his notice, but he couldn't really bring himself to care.

After that, they made their way back to Duncan. Alistair and Daylen explained how Morrigan and her Mother had kept the treaties safe to Duncan, who told them much the same thing that Aedan had, that they did not serve the Chantry and had no reason to tell the Templars.

Soon, they were ready for the Joining.

* * *

"We pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree you pay your price now, rather than later," Duncan explained.

Aedan wasn't sure the others understood the subtle hint in the statement. Duncan said the Joining might kill them now, but he had also told them that they would eventually die. Not to some darkspawn, he imagined. It was likely that the Joining itself would eventually kill them. But Aedan knew that if he watched Howe die tonight, he would happily die before dawn, so the idea of dying much later wasn't one that bothered him.

He knew that his duty was to end the Blight, he knew it, and yet... he _wanted_ to take vengeance.

But Couslands always do their duty first.

The group made their way to the area Aedan and Daylen had first found Alistair in, Duncan excluded, as he was off to retrieve whatever materials were needed for the Joining.

"The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it," Jory complained.

"Are you blubbering, again?" asked Daveth, in some disbelief.

"Why all these damn tests?" Jory defended. "Have I not earned my place?"

"Maybe it's tradition," Daveth theorized. "Maybe they're just trying to annoy you."

Aedan didn't deign to get involved in such a stupid disagreement. What was to be done would be; no point thinking about it.

Daylen was more talkative however, and jumped in. "Calm down, Ser Jory. There's nothing we can do about it now."

But Jory refused to calm down, ranting, "I only know that my wife is in Highever, with a child on the way. If they had warned me... it just doesn't seem fair."

Aedan's head perked up for a second when he heard Highever, but it was a false alarm. Wasn't Jory a Redcliffe knight? Why was his wife in Highever? Well, if they survived, they'd have plenty of chances to talk about it. If not, then... it didn't really matter anyways.

"Would you have come if they'd warned you? Maybe that's why they don't. The Wardens do what they must, right?" Daveth decided.

"Including sacrificing us?" Jory countered.

"I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight," Daveth said.

Aedan wondered if he was capable of killing Anathea to save Fereldan. He would have. It was pretty obvious to him. If murdering every person in that castle himself could have saved everyone else in Fereldan, he would have done it. Bearing that guilt, ending those lives, the lives of everyone he cared about... he'd do it in a heartbeat. It would hurt him like nothing else, but he still would have done it. Couslands always do their duty first. It wasn't really a motto. It was more of a description.

"You make a good point, Daveth," Daylen spoke what Aedan was thinking.

"You saw those darkspawn, ser knight. Wouldn't you die to protect your pretty wife from them?" Daveth asked. Before Jory could answer, Daveth continued. "Maybe you'll die, maybe we'll all die. If nobody stops the Blight: we'll die for sure."

"Us, Fereldan, all of Thedas, eventually," Daylen added helpfully.

"I have just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade," Jory continued to defend his cowardice.

 _What a pleasant life you must lead to know nothing of guilt or regret, Jory_ , Aedan thought to himself, as Duncan walked in, carrying a large white goblet. What was that thing made of?

"At last, we come to the Joining," Duncan said solemnly. "The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens harvested darkspawn blood, and with powerful magicks, made it fit for the Joining. And so they drank the mixture, overcoming the taint, mastering it."

"We're going to drink the blood of those... those creatures?" Jory asked.

"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you." Duncan answered. "This is the source of our power, and our victory."

"Amazing," Daylen breathed. "I'm well aware there is power in blood... And also in corruption... I had my suspicions, but..."

His reverent tone turned suddenly casual, as he asked, "Is that really enough for the four of us? Well, I suppose you all know what you're doing."

"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint," Alistair explained. "We can sense it in the darkspawn, and use it to slay the Archdemon."

Aedan spoke for the first time in a while. "Those who survive?"

"I will warn you now," Duncan began. "If you undergo the Joining without complete dedication, or your faith wavering, it is not likely you will survive. Now that you know all this, however, there is no going back."

Jory audibly gulped.

Duncan continued, "Only a few words are said prior to the Joining, but they have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?"

Alistair looked down and said solemnly, "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day, we, shall join you."

Another hint that the Joining would take them all, in time.

Duncan held the joining goblet up.

"Daveth, step forward."

Daveth did. He took the goblet and drank from it, after considerable hesitation.

He fell to the ground, grasping at his throat in pain. His eyes went white, and he shook. He fell to the ground. And then, he stopped moving entirely.

Duncan knelt to check his pulse, before concluding, with great sorrow at the loss of a fellow Grey Warden, "I am sorry, Daveth. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten."

"You will not be forgotten," Alistair echoed.

Aedan engraved the name in his heart.

 _Daveth, you will not be forgotten._

"Maker's breath," Jory exclaimed.

"Jory, step forward."

"I... I have a wife, a child! Had I known," He backed away from Duncan, drawing his sword defensively. "You ask too much! There is no glory in this!"

Duncan did not back down, holding the goblet in one hand, drawn an elven dar'misu dagger in his other. "You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint, for the greater good. There is no turning back."

Duncan advanced towards him, and Jory made his choice. He readied his sword to strike out against Duncan, instead of drinking from the goblet.

When Jory struck out, Duncan easily parried his blade. "You leave me no choice," he said, before easily sliding through Jory's defenses, plunging his dagger through a weakness in his chain mail.

"I am sorry," Duncan apologized, but not for the death of a Grey Warden. Only for the death of man who proved a coward when it counted the most.

"Aedan, step forward."

Aedan took a step. He wondered if he would survive this. He remembered what Duncan had said before the Joining began. If his dedication was not complete, if his faith wavered, he would die.

He _wanted_ to take revenge on Howe. For the death of his parents, his best friend, the love of his life, everyone he ever cared about.

He wanted to take revenge so _badly_. The rage in him threatened to erupt. He wanted to take the goblet and crush it to pieces.

He looked down at Jory's corpse, and as a familiar pain struck his head, the newly-deceased knight spoke.

"Are you no better than I?"

Jory's head snapped back, but then Daveth turned to look at him, and another spike in pain heralded his words.

"Are you a Cousland?"

The pain struck again, but his rage was quelled for the moment.

Couslands always do their duty first.

Howe was the king's problem now. Vengeance was out of his hands. It was up to fate whether Howe paid.

Because he was a Cousland.

His duty was to end the Blight, to protect Fereldan, to protect Thedas.

 _One day, Daveth, my brother, I will join you,_ he thought to himself. _But that day is not yet come._

He drank the blood, feeling immense pain all in his body at once. But it was only pain. When Anathea died he was cut in about a hundred places, stabbed in a couple more, and had arrows sticking out of every part of his body. Though he was keenly aware of the horrific physical pain he was in at that time, it didn't bother him at all when he saw her last breath escape her lungs. Her passing was the only thing he felt in that moment.

This did hurt marginally more than the arrows and the sword wounds, however. He felt the taint moving in him. It spoke, no, it sang, to every part of him. Every bone, every muscle, every organ, was assaulted by its song. It invaded his mind, sought to corrupt his thoughts. It even tried to corrupt his hidden power. Aedan fought with all his strength to resist it. His power did not engage. He focused on resisting. Eventually it must end, right? Slowly, he felt the taint settling down. It still sang, but it was more to itself. It settled into every part of him, not fighting him, content on slowly corrupting its surroundings. Even his power was not untouched. The taint merged into his mysterious strength. It made every part of him stronger. His bones tougher, his muscles faster and stronger, his thoughts quicker. Even his dark strength was not unaffected, but he didn't know what had changed. He was tired. He could use a nap, he decided. He didn't remember laying on the ground, but he was already there. He saw Daylen lying next to him. Hopefully Daylen survived. He was an amusing companion, and now one of Aedan's only friends.

He saw a vision. Amidst a green sky, a rotting dragon, ugly and foul, roared at him, telling him to rise. It was commanding him to rise up and fight. He refused.

He opened his eyes as he heard Duncan say, "It is finished. Welcome, Brother."

Aedan struggled to stand up, his whole body screaming in pain.

"Two more deaths," Alistair shook his head. "I'm glad you two survived."

"How do you feel?" Duncan asked.

Aedan pondered the best way to answer him. "I'm hungry."

"Did you have dreams?" Alistair asked. "I had horrible dreams after my Joining."

Aedan nodded, choosing not to elaborate.

Duncan nodded in return. "You should find something to eat as soon as possible. Afterwards, the King has requested your presence at the strategy meeting, as well as the presence of Daylen. Why he has done this, I do not know, but if the king wishes it, so it shall be. You two shall accompany me as soon as you are able. The meeting place is just to the west of here. As for any dreams... such dreams come, when you begin to sense the darkspawn, as we all do. That, and many other things, can be explained in the months to come."

"Before I forget," Alistair started. "There is one last part to your Joining. We take some of the blood, and put it in a pendant, to remind us... of those who didn't make it this far."

"I will never forget the sacrifice Daveth made," he said solemnly, receiving the pendant.

He fastened it around his neck, hiding it underneath his armor, before an overzealous Muttlie came charging up the temple towards him. He knelt to receive his friend, and was soon scratching behind an eager Muttlie's ears as he walked briskly out of the ruined temple, presumably to find a lot of food.

When Daylen awoke, he heard Alistair say, "We probably shouldn't tell him we Joined the dog at the same time as him. Something tells me he wouldn't be pleased we almost killed his best friend."

Duncan said back, "Something tells me he would understand the necessity of the action. Angered though he might be. He will, of course, find out, when he learns to control his sense of the taint."

Daylen struggled to sit up.

"It is finished," Duncan told him. "Welcome, Brother. How do you feel?"

"I've never been in more pain. But I still can't believe you killed Ser Jory."

Duncan shook his head. "It brought me no pleasure to end his life. It is fairly common for recruits to have second thoughts, to try to back out. They are always given a second chance. However, when he went for his blade, he left me no choice."

Alistair gave Daylen a pendant with the leftover blood, and told him he might be able to catch up to Aedan if he hurried. He shouldn't be hard to find. He was not a difficult man to spot in a crowd, that was for certain.

Daylen found him, started walking just behind him, to his right, and it was almost like how it was that afternoon, before the Joining, before they met the other recruits. Except that Aedan had one more person he could never forget.

* * *

Muttlie and the two men quickly found themselves a traditional, hearty Ferelden meal of grey stuff soaked in grey stuff, topped with grey stuff, with a side of grey stuff. Alcohol was of course strictly prohibited before a battle, so instead of asking someone where they were drinking in secret, they settled for water.

After their meal, they headed quickly to the strategy meeting, which was just beginning.

Aedan briefly wondered why Cailan invited them, but decided it didn't particularly matter at the moment.

"-decision is final," Cailan stated to Loghain, an aging black haired man in full plate. "I will stand by the Grey Wardens in this assault."

"You risk too much, Cailan," Loghain shook his head. "The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing _hero_ on the front lines."

"If that's the case," Cailan began, "perhaps we should wait for the _Orlesian_ forces to join us after all."

That was not tactful. Even in Aedan's current subdued state, he would know not to bring up the Orlesians around Loghain.

Loghain had basically run the war against the Orlesians in the war for independence just 30 short years earlier. To bring up the Orlesians was to intentionally rile the man up, anyone could see that. The Teyrn of Gwaren, the commander of the forces of Fereldan, he was a powerful man, and with the Teyrn of Cousland in enemy hands, he was perhaps second only to the king himself.

"I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to defend ourselves," Loghain retorted venomously.

"It is _not_ a fool notion," Cailan defended. "Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past. And you will remember who is king."

At this point, words became silent to Aedan. When he was asked a question, he answered without hearing himself. Daylen said something to cause the king to chuckle, but he did not know what.

The meeting was a blur. Soon, he walked with Daylen and Duncan back to the campfire, where they met with Alistair, and he began to hear once more, though all was loud.


	6. Chapter 6

"Good, you are here," Duncan said to Alistair. "The signal to begin battle preparations has already been given. The strategy is simple. The king's men will hold the darkspawn in the valley, and once the darkspawn are busy fighting, you three will ensure the Tower of Ishal's beacon is lit, signaling Teyrn Loghain's men to charge from cover, flanking the horde."

"What!?" Alistair shouted before he could stop himself. He asked incredulously, "You mean we won't be in the battle?"

"This is by the king's personal request, Alistair. If the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain's men won't know when to charge."

"So he needs three Grey Wardens holding the torch, just to be safe," Alistair quipped.

Aedan was actually quite upset that he wouldn't be in the battle, but he was too busy keeping his rage in check to say anything.

Daylen, on the other hand, was quite outspoken.

"I agree, though little can be done. 'Ensuring a beacon is lit' is the biggest waste of a mage I've ever heard! Mages have rebelled for less," he remarked.

Alistair was always up for a joke, and added "Actually, I think they rebelled for exactly this reason before. The mages of Val Royeaux once locked themselves in the choir loft of the Grand Cathedral for three weeks after being reduced to simply lighting the eternal fires of the Chantry. First Circle was founded as a direct result, actually."

Daylen, though still miffed, found Alistair's version of the event very funny, and laughed despite himself.

"The Grey Wardens must do whatever it takes to defeat the darkspawn," Duncan reminded them. "We are few in Fereldan, but we are lucky enough that its current king is our greatest ally. We must indulge him whenever possible. If he wants Grey Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, Grey Wardens will be there."

Daylen bargained, "Can we join afterwards, at least?"

Duncan thought for a second. "We will send word if you are needed."

"And if the archdemon appears?" Aedan continued tiredly, fighting through his rage to ask what he needed.

"We soil our drawers, that's what," Alistair joked.

"If, in the unlikely event the archdemon does appear, leave it to the senior Wardens. I want no heroics from any of you. The archdemon is... a tricky foe, to say the least."

Aedan nodded, and, glancing at his new brothers in arms, said, "We understand."

"Then I must join the others," Duncan said. "From here, you three are on your own. Remember, you are Grey Wardens. I expect you all to be worthy of that title."

"Duncan," Alistair said suddenly. "May the Maker watch over you."

"May he watch over us all."

A week earlier, Aedan may have said something as well. Now, he simply watched as Duncan walked away.

Saying nothing, Aedan walked towards the bridge they'd first come across when arriving that morning, and the group headed in that direction.

"If we mess this up, we'll look pretty stupid," Daylen said suddenly. Aedan could hear nervousness in his words, but it did not seem to be for themselves.

The three men and the Mabari crossed the bridge, which nearly collapsed when some sort of darkspawn ballista bolt hit it. That death would have been truly tragic.

* * *

They reached the gates leading to the tower, but once they entered they discovered a pitched battle between a pitiful few soldiers and many more darkspawn.

"Maker's breath!" Alistair exclaimed. "I sensed darkspawn, but I didn't know there were so many here!"

Aedan shouted wordlessly as he ran towards the enemies. The soldiers weren't all dead; they could save a few.

Aedan felt dark strength fill him, but with the taint powering the ability, even he was surprised at the ease with which he cut darkspawn in half.

The group saved a few guards, but as they made their way to the tower, the soldiers just kept getting shot at and killed. There wasn't anything they could do.

They finally reached the entrance to the tower, guarded by a hurlock alpha and a genlock emissary, each taken care of with the greatest of ease by Aedan and Daylen, respectively.

Inside the tower, they ran into a spot of trouble when Aedan carelessly tripped a grease trap in his blood lust. Daylen annihilated the mage responsible for setting the grease on fire, but the archers got a few shots in on Alistair while he was moving slowly through the grease. He, of course, blocked them with his shield, but the archers found themselves freed of their heads courtesy of Aedan before Alistair even got close.

"I feel kind of useless when I'm with you two," he admitted. "I was a Templar, well, trained as one, anyways, so taking care of mages was sort of my thing. With Daylen annihilating them, I don't really have a good reason for being here."

"Don't say that," Daylen comforted him. "You're very useful. I'm squishy, see, and you have such a nice shield."

Aedan spoke up, "Alistair, your new job is to protect Daylen. I'm not suited to blocking blows. I'll be the vanguard, Daylen supports us, and you support him."

Muttlie whined in disapproval.

"You can be in the vanguard too, Muttlie."

Muttlie barked happily.

Alistair considered this. "Okay, you win. I'll protect the squishy one."

Plan in place, the Wardens massacred their way through the tower. They didn't know why the darkspawn had overwhelmed this place to begin with, but Aedan was quite happy to get rid of them. By the time they were about to reach the top, they must have brought down at least a few hundred of the beasts.

Aedan felt very good, releasing his rage. It felt good to let loose, to annihilate his enemies.

As they climbed the stairs to the top floor, the heard a roar coming from above them. They all shared a look before continuing up.

An ogre greeted them, standing easily fifteen feet tall.

Aedan asked quickly, "Can you paralyze that thing?"

"It'll take time," Daylen responded. "I'd explain why but there's no point or time."

"Great," Aedan said. "I'll distract it. Alistair, see if you can sneak around it and light the beacon."

Alistair nodded, and the men began putting their plan in motion.

Aedan's brilliant distraction was to let it grab him, which, to be fair, worked spectacularly, and Alistair was able to light the beacon.

Alistair eagerly looked out into the valley while Aedan was pummeled.

"A little help, Alistair?" Aedan choked out, using all his dark strength to prevent the ogre from crushing him like a bug. Muttlie was ripping into the ogre's heels, but it wasn't fazed.

Alistair wasn't listening.

"Alistair, stab it, it's distracted!" he shouted, but Alistair didn't budge. Finally, Daylen succeeded in paralyzing the ogre, and Aedan wrenched himself from its grasp, before leaping to its head and stabbing it straight through its skull, with great difficulty, even for him. It was a feat only made possible by his tainted ability. Before the taint, he doubted he could have done it. He could punch through stone, but he couldn't stab through solid steel. And this thing's head was much harder than steel.

"Where were you, Alistair?" Daylen asked, but he got no response. He moved to Alistair, but saw only the raging battle. "I don't see anything wrong. We're not getting demolished, or anything."

Aedan looked out, before his eyes widened. "The Teyrn's men. We lit the signal, so where is their charge?!"

Alistair's voice was close to breaking as he said, "Loghain has betrayed us. He is leaving the king to die! And Duncan, and," suddenly Alistair's eyes widened. "Darkspawn incoming! A lot of them!"

The group prepared for the flood of darkspawn, and it came. A hundred of them at a time swarmed up from the lower levels. Aedan made quick work of them, but they managed to get hits on him every so often. And every so often, they shot at Daylen and Alistair, and every so often, an arrow would be missed by Alistair, and would strike Daylen. The mage would heal himself, but his mana wouldn't last forever. When a wave ended, they shoved the bodies down the stairs, but it only delayed the horde.

After an hour of fighting or so, at least ten waves, the bodies piled up around them, and Daylen finally ran out of lyrium potions. He cast bolts from his staff, but there was no more healing for any of them.

Daylen was the first to fall, a single arrow rendered him unconscious when he was unable to heal the wound. Soon after came Muttlie, and then Alistair, and then Aedan was alone.

Was this his end? What had he done wrong? What had been his failing? Was there really nothing he could do to prevent his death?

Perhaps there would be a miracle. Perhaps the Maker would intervene, perhaps it would be Anathea's Creators... but it was hopeless. They were absent gods, all of them. As wounds began to pile up, he began to lose hope. He resembled a porcupine, filled with arrows as he was, but he refused to fall. He was running on fumes, he knew. When the wave of spawn was dead, he had a brief respite. He stabilized his three friends with health poultices, in case there was a miracle and they were to be saved. He pushed the darkspawn corpses into the stairwell to slow the next wave down on his own now, but they simply tore their way through.

He broke the arrows embedded in him in half so they wouldn't get in his way. If he took them out he would bleed unnecessarily, so he tried to make them as small as possible. His muscles didn't work properly with holes in them, and he knew he was hurting himself by moving. But he had little choice.

More waves came. He must have killed thousands already, and his body was starting to shut down on him. Through sheer force of will he stood, his ferocious strength letting him swing with strength he shouldn't have. The longer he used his ability, the less skilled his fighting became, the more barbaric, the more willing to trade injuries just to get the job done.

Why was he fighting? Why was he struggling so hard to survive?

He had to defend Thedas from these things he mowed down like flies. Though they posed little true threat to himself, he knew any one of these waves could wipe a village from the face of the planet. Ten of them could level a city. He was the only one who could protect Fereldan from these monsters. He believed that. No one else had his power. He had a responsibility to use it.

Another wave. He could barely move. His ability made every movement strong, but no less difficult. It was getting to be impossible to fight. Help was coming soon, he convinced himself. If he held back another wave, help would come.

The next wave came and was slaughtered, but no help arrived. It was getting harder to convince himself help would ever come. He found himself wondering about pointless things. No one would care if he died. Fergus was certainly dead, along with the king and they Wardens.

No, one person would care. That girl he met in the Wilds, Morrigan. She had a crush on him. Surely, she would be a little sad if he were to die. It hardly mattered.

Another wave. He didn't even move to push the bodies down the stairwell. Simply stood like a statue, preparing for more.

Another wave. He killed them all. He stopped moving, stopped thinking.

The pain rendered him unconscious, but still he fought, unknowingly.

* * *

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up with a body next to his. Anathea's body. What?

He was struck dumb, but Anathea felt him stir. She put her dainty hand on his head, checking his temperature.

"Bad dreams?" she asked.

 _I'm dying._

"Don't worry about it, dear. Go back to sleep."

 _Anathea is dead._

"If you say so, honey. I worry about you. No one would blame you if you decided to sleep here, with me."

 _This isn't real. There is no Maker. There is only nothing._

He kissed her on the lips in answer, and she kissed him back.

 _I need to go back._

"Goodnight, Aedan Cousland."

 _My duty is not yet done._

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Goodnight, my love of loves. If we ever meet again, you will have me all to yourself."

 _A Cousland always does his duty first._

"I'd like that, darling."

Aedan's vision faded to black, and he no longer felt or thought anything.

* * *

When next he opened his eyes, he half expected to be back in the tower, but he felt immense relief when that turned out not to be the case. Instead he was in a bed, warm enough, in a cozy room. He looked around. He felt no pain, somehow. He felt great, if a little hungry.

Something moved in the room. A woman, a girl, really, was trying to put a book on the tallest shelf in the room, but she wasn't quite tall enough.

She struggled to put the book in place, and was quite startled when a man's hand came into view and put the book where she was trying to push it into place.

A deep, smooth voice in her ear told her, "You should have used the step-stool."

She turned around, but the man, Aedan, was already sitting on the bed.

She was about to make an excuse, but he interrupted her.

"Where's my armour?" he asked.

"What armour?" she retorted.

"Good point," he acknowledged.

"Do you remember what happened?" Morrigan asked, more gently than he remembered her being.

"I remember killing several thousand darkspawn, and then nothing. Were my injuries severe?" he asked seriously.

"Is that some sort of a joke?" Morrigan asked, with a strange sort of anger.

Confused, he said nothing.

With a scowl, the witch informed him, "You were dead for three days. No breathing, no heartbeat, nothing. Mother insisted your spirit had not left your body, and so she healed your corpse's injuries, sustaining your mind and body. When the Circle mage awoke, not long after Mother's rescue, he confirmed this. The foolish one, however, remains worried sick."

"How did I die, if I may ask?" Aedan questioned her quietly.

"I-I do not know for certain, as I was not there. The way Mother tells it, however, you were standing amidst a pile of five hundred darkspawn corpses, beset upon by a hundred more, and when they were defeated, you stopped moving entirely. Then, she says, either your heart stopped beating, or you simply ran out of blood. You died where you stood, and, she claims, you remained standing."

However imressive that sounded, Aedan cared none, asking only, "How did she rescue us?"

"She changed into a giant bird, swooped in, and carried the three of you and the dog off, the two fools in one talon, the dog in the other, and you in her beak. If you do not believe that, I suggest you ask her yourself. She may even tell you."

Aedan shook his head very slightly and said, "I don't disbelieve that. Not entirely, at any rate."

He rose, and said, "Thank you for helping me, Morrigan. You do not know how long I hoped I would be saved. I cannot afford to die, yet."

Morrigan seemed very taken aback by his thanks, though he could tell it was not unwelcome. "I-you are welcome, though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer."

Aedan always had a knack for telling when someone wasn't telling the truth, for seeing the emotions they tried to hide, as long as he was paying attention. This time, however, the faint blush on her cheeks rendered his talent pointless, as anyone looking close enough would be able to tell she was hiding something.

Aedan wasn't sure why or what she was hiding, but he was truthfully extremely grateful, to anyone who played any part in their rescue. He told her as much, "Whatever it is you did, regardless of how small, I thank you. I also have a request."

"A request?" Morrigan asked curiously.

"The other two and I are now the only Grey Wardens in Fereldan," Aedan began solemnly.

"If you are asking me to join your order, I refuse," Morrigan shook her head.

"I am asking you to join us on our quest," he corrected. Ignoring her dumbfounded look, he continued, "We must raise allies, and the journey will be perilous. I get the feeling there will be no lack of problems besetting us, and Daylen spoke highly of your power. As impressive as he is in dealing with other mages, he has a hard time directly doing damage to mundane enemies. Somehow, I doubt you have the same problem. If you would come with us, I would be very grateful."

Aedan had not spoken so much since Highever, but he felt so relieved to be alive. That, and... something else compelled him to talk.

Morrigan didn't exactly know what to say, which Aedan got the distinct feeling was not something that happened to her very often.

Aedan continued on, very bluntly. "I will ask you again. Will you join me on my quest to defeat the Blight?"

Morrigan hesitated for a split second, but agreed. "I will follow you. The Blight is an evil that must be stopped."

Aedan nodded. "You have my thanks. It will be dangerous."

As Morrigan packed her things, Aedan exited the hut, wearing a Chasind Wilder outfit that allowed for easy movement, but didn't make him feel any more protected than he was before he put it on.

"See, here is your fellow Grey Warden," Morrigan's mother said to a forlorn Alistair. Daylen was suspiciously nowhere to be seen. Muttlie bounded happily towards his master. "You worry too much, young man."

"You. You're alive," Alistair laughed. "I thought you were dead for sure. You _were_ dead. No breath, no pulse, no eye movement, no nothing."

"And I'd still be dead, along with you and Daylen, if it weren't for our gracious host."

"This doesn't seem real," Alistair continued. "I thought for sure we'd die on that tower. It's only thanks to Morrigan's mother that we didn't."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad," the woman in question chastised.

"I-I didn't mean... But-but what do we call you? You never told us your name."

"Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do."

" _The_ Flemeth? From the legends? Daveth was right-you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

"And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well, has it not?"

Aedan turned to Flemeth, and said, "Thank you. It's twice you've helped us now. I would repay you, but I no longer have anything to offer."

"You can defeat the Blight, can't you?" she provided. "That would certainly be payment enough for me."

Aedan shook his head. "I feel it is not a balanced trade; I was already planning on ending the Blight."

"And yet, I feel it is more than enough," Flemeth stubbornly countered. "Which of us is doing the paying, and which of us is doing the receiving?"

"I understand," Aedan said after a short moment. "We will defeat the Blight."

"How exactly are we supposed to do that?" Alistair asked hopelessly.

"However we must," Aedan replied in his usual solemn tone.

Flemeth looked at the two, before asking, "It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"

"But we _were_ fighting the darkspawn!" Alistair argued. "The king had nearly defeated them! Why would Loghain do this?!"

"Now _that_ is a good question," Flemeth praised. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he thinks that the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

"The archdemon," Alistair stated.

"First, we should contact the Grey Wardens outside Fereldan," Aedan suggested.

"Cailan summoned them already. They'll come if they can. Though I suspect Loghain has already taken steps to stop them. We must assume they won't arrive in time."

"Then, we should find the archdemon."

"By _ourselves_?" Alistair questioned. "No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half dozen nations at his back."

Aedan said seriously, "They never had me."

Morrigan's voice drifted into their midst from behind them. "Tough words, big man. But do you actually know how to kill it? 'Tis immortal, if you recall."

"I know only Grey Wardens can make it stay dead," Aedan admitted. "I just assumed I'd figure it out when it happened. They didn't know how to kill it during the first Blight, either, but it eventually ended."

A sad looking Daylen emerged from behind the hut, and spoke quietly, "After nearly two hundred years, yes, it did. However, while the archdemon is the true threat, the horde itself _is_ the more immediate one. If we don't find a way to delay the bulk of it, Fereldan will be overrun by the time the archdemon appears. And we can't stop the entire thing with just us three. We'd need another five or six Aedans at the very least."

The mage turned to look at Aedan directly and said, "I am pleased to see you yet live, my friend. I've never heard of a soul clinging to its body for three entire days, before. I was beginning to worry. You are a most interesting man."

Aedan was glad that although he looked visibly upset, Daylen was still himself enough to say far more than he needed to, all at once.

"I'm pleased to be alive," he responded. He turned to Flemeth. "Do you know what happened to my pack? The treaties were in it, along with a healthy treasury."

Before Flemeth could answer, Alistair shouted, "Of course! The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages, and other places! They're obligated to help us during a Blight! And Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar, he still has all his men!"

"I may be old," Flemeth prefaced. "But dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else... this sounds like an army to me."

"So can we do this?" Alistair asked, almost hopefully. "Go to Redcliffe and these other places, and... build an army?"

"I don't see why not," Daylen answered.

"But who shall lead it?" Aedan asked, before he noticed the quizzical looks he was getting from his comrades. "Oh. If that is to be the case, I will not shirk my duty."

"So you are set, then?" Flemeth asked. "Ready to be Grey Wardens?"

Aedan nodded. "We are. I would also like to have your approval on a certain matter, however, before we go."

Flemeth smiled, but to Aedan it seemed a malicious one. Cruel, even. "Does this 'certain matter' have anything to do at all with why my daughter carries her every possession in the pack upon her back?"

Morrigan did not wait for Aedan to defend her, saying immediately, "I want to go with him. They will need my help."

Alistair was already shouting at Aedan before she finished.

"Have you lost your mind!? She's an apostate!"

Daylen helpfully spoke up, "Although I like the idea of taking the harpy with us about as much as you, Alistair, I should remind you that outside of the Wilds, I am also an apostate."

"We are Grey Wardens, Alistair," Aedan said solemnly. "Grey Wardens do whatever they must to end the Blight. She comes with us."

Alistair looked pissed, but relented. "You are right."

Aedan looked to Daylen, asking him what he thought with his gaze.

"Don't look at me. I think that swamp harpy is more trouble than she's worth, but it's up to you. I'll stand by whatever decisions you make, from here on out."

Aedan nodded. "Thank you."

He turned to Flemeth. "Do we have your approval to take your daughter with us? It will be dangerous."

Flemeth smiled cruelly again. "I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you _must_ succeed."

"Understood," Aedan assured her. He turned to the woman in question, who had a guarded expression, though Aedan could see the nervousness being held back.

"Do you have any ideas about where to go first, Morrigan?"

"I know of a town just north of the Wilds. It is not far, and we can find much we need there."

"Excellent."

Morrigan looked to her mother, and said, "Farewell, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut."

"Bah! 'Tis far more likely you will return to find this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight!" Flemeth said.

Morrigan was visibly affected by this, stuttering, "A-all I meant, was..."

"Yes, I know," Flemeth softened. "Do try to have fun, dear."

"Let's move," Aedan suggested.

After Flemeth produced Aedan's pack, with the treaties and a lot of money int it, the group was led out of the wilds by Morrigan. They spent the next few hours occasionally encountering darkspawn that she took care of before anyone else had a chance. Aedan spoke with her about what spells she knew, and found she excelled in the schools of Primal and Entropy. She was evidently fond of spells involving ice, and the party left behind a trail of shattered darkspawn corpses behind.

When the sky grew dark, they set up camp, and Aedan watched as Morrigan set up a fire far from the Grey Wardens' fire.

There was something sad about this, but Aedan couldn't put his finger on it.

After he ate with his brothers in arms, he made his way to her campfire. He enjoyed the company of women, and saw no reason to stop now. He didn't plan on bedding Morrigan, of course, but he just _liked_ women. He also realized that his group did not have tents, and though he did not particularly care, he figured Alistair and Daylen would probably fight better if they were well rested. He assumed Morrigan would know more of surviving in the Wilds than him. He had hardly spent a night outside of Highever Castle, after all.

She sat on a log, fiddling with vials filled with liquids Aedan could not identify. There was only the one log, so Aedan sat directly next to her.

She glared at him and said in an angry tone that he didn't quite believe, "Did you not consider the possibility that I had perhaps made my own camp some distance from yours because I wished to be away from you Grey Wardens?"

"Perhaps," Aedan granted. "But, I suspect both of us know that you do not think of me the same way as them."

Morrigan's look changed to a knowing smile, and she said in a satisfied tone, "Good. I only wished to know if you realized this. That Circle dog and that fool Templar are simply unbearable. You are much more reasonable."

Aedan was reminded for what seemed like the hundredth time that Morrigan was likely barely a woman, and she did not fully understand the intricacies of conversation. Her life in the Wilds was probably not one in which she spoke to many others, and Flemeth did not seem the kind to teach her daughter how to make polite conversation. Aedan, too, had mostly stopped caring for what others believed or thought right. He was curious, so he thought he might ask her...

"Morrigan, do I have your permission to ask an unnecessary question?" he asked, his tone hardly any different from his normal, solemn emotionless one.

Morrigan hesitated before answering, "You have my permission to ask. Whether I answer, however, is not certain."

"Of course," Aedan agreed. "Might I know your age?"

She was clearly caught off guard by this question, as she shook her head in surprise when she understood the question.

"I—what? Why ask this? Why do you wish to know this?" she asked defensively.

Aedan answered honestly, though not every reason he divulged. "Daylen, the mage, claims he is more powerful than you, and therefor more talented."

"He what?" Morrigan interrupted. "How could he possibly know that?"

Aedan continued, unperturbed by the interjection, "This, however, assumes the two of you have been trained for an equivalent amount of time. I merely wish to know if I must correct him or not."

Morrigan thought for a second, before proposing a trade. "I shall tell you how many years I have lived, if you shall tell me how the Circle dog claims to know my strength."

"As you wish. It is no secret—Daylen is apparently a researcher of the Fade, and his primary mastery is in the School of Spirit. He claims he can sense your "connection" to the Fade, as well as the 'fluctuations' you send into it. If I remember correctly, he said his belief hinged on whether you practiced blood magic, because it doesn't involve the Fade. He also said he did not believe you practiced blood magic."

Morrigan looked at him closely, and Aedan believed it was because he had not said this much at once in the time he'd known her.

Morrigan spoke quietly, almost as if there was something shameful about her age.

"I have lived eighteen years as of last season."

Aedan simply nodded.

With her usual confidence, Morrigan asked Aedan, "I find myself wondering something unnecessary as well. What is your age, big man?"

Aedan was not entirely sure what her use of 'big man' was intended to accomplish, but keeping his rage in check was taking its toll on him, and he was beginning to grow tired. He did not have the strength to think about such things.

"I will be twenty six next season," he said bluntly, and his head began to swim.

"I see," he heard Morrigan say, but he couldn't see her for some reason. "That is—Aedan? Aedan are you alright, what's wrong?"

He heard Morrigan's concern, which he found cute, considering her act, and wanted to assure her he was perfectly fine, but for some reason, his eyes were closed, and his head was against something cold and hard.

He was so very tired.


	7. Chapter 7

Aedan couldn't remember the dream he was having, but it wasn't a bad one. He awoke on a bed of leaves on soft dirt, and felt as refreshed as was possible for him, considering the dark anger he had been holding back since Anathea's death. He heard Morrigan and Daylen arguing, and felt he might learn something if he merely listened.

"-wamp harpy."

"I hate you _so_ much, Circle dog."

Muttlie barked in protest.

"I know you are upset with me, foul creature, but I had nothing to do with your master's condition, I swear to you."

Muttlie growled suspiciously.

There was a pause, and Morrigan said, "There. Have you been sufficiently placated by this so called "petting" ritual? Then leave me be, flea ridden mongrel."

Muttlie barked happily, and left the mages to their bickering.

"So you hate me, and you hate Alistair, and you hate Muttlie, but Aedan you have no problems with?"

"What do you hope to learn with such a question, fool? That I am attracted to Aedan? I am. Tis not a secret. He is a most handsome man, and most sensible. I feel no need to hide my attraction. More importantly, however, is the fact that even with my help, without Aedan, you pair of imbeciles have no chance whatsoever at defeating the archdemon. Aedan is most valuable. This is why I am concerned with his well being. As for my attraction to him, tis a completely unrelated matter."

"Awfully defensive."

"Do not confuse your stupidity for any defensiveness of mine! If you were not such a fool, I would not have to explain all these things to you."

"You claim you are merely attracted to his appearance and his personality. I do not trust you for a second. You are after his strength, his power. Whatever his power is, I'm not sure, but his physical strength should be impossible, and his durability is equally ludicrous. I know not what games you are playing, or what use you have for him, but do not forget that I am a mage, too, and a damn good one at that. You ceaselessly insist there is some major difference between us, but some things all mages share. Even a child at the Circle could tell you that relationships involving mages are _never_ just about attraction. I left behind my woman at the Circle to become a Grey Warden. I loved her dearly, shared happiness and sadness together with her. Every single layer of our relationship was built on one of us using the other somehow, power plays, Circle politics. Do not think that because I grew up in a Circle, I am too blind to see when a fucking witch is trying to use someone for their own gain. The difference between us is _your_ power play likely has nothing to do with politics. You don't fool me, disgusting harpy."

Aedan risked a peak at the two, and was surprised when she saw Morrigan's face briefly concealing hurt, of what kind, he could not guess. Of course, her face had hidden the pain quite well, so he wasn't sure how deep it ran. The pain left her face entirely after just a moment, but Aedan knew he was not seeing things. Though it was dark out, he could see the pair perfectly.

"It does not bother me if you are unable to accept the truth. That is your problem," Morrigan said, seemingly in total control of her tone. Perhaps he was losing his touch? "I am going to check on Aedan."

"Yeah, well just don't fucking corrupt him, you evil bitch," Daylen said.

It seemed a bit much to Aedan, saying such things to someone barely a woman, who had likely never dealt with such adamant vehemence, especially not from another mage. Her mother was stern, yes, but this was beyond what he believed the woman capable of saying to her own daughter. Then Aedan remembered Daylen firmly believed Morrigan was several years older than them. He'd have to tell him.

Aedan closed his eyes as Morrigan rose from her seat by the fire, heading towards whatever shelter he was in.

He could feel Morrigan's body heat nearing him. He felt her put her head on his chest. His chest was broad enough that in order to do so, she had to practically lay her whole chest atop him to do so. Was she trying to hear his heartbeat? Actually, when he thought about it, she definitely did not need to lay on him to check his pulse.

She absolutely did not need to move so that she completely lay on him, and she most certainly did not need to continue to do so for five entire minutes.

He didn't exactly mind. She wasn't very heavy at all. Partly because he enjoyed the feeling of her small, yet...bountiful, form on his, and partly because he did not want to embarrass her, he didn't move a muscle, letting her do whatever it was she was doing. Perhaps she was more hurt by Daylen's comments than he guessed, and she wanted... He did not know. Perhaps she merely enjoyed the contact.

Before she got off of him, she whispered, "Thank you, Aedan."

For some reason, he got the feeling she was thanking him for something entirely different than the obvious.

Then she slapped him in the face.

It was a strong slap for her, but just a bit more than an itch to him, and he had to pretend to care.

He opened his eyes quickly, surprised,and asked after a few seconds, "Why have I been slapped awake, if I may ask?"

She gave him a smile that, for all his knack for seeing emotion, he found utterly impossible to decipher, then she turned away and shouted rudely, "Circle dog! Aedan's eyes finally open!"

"I can only pray you refrained from soiling his purity, harpy!" Came the reply.

Morrigan stalked off, and Daylen came into view. He did not wear a happy face.

"What in Thedas is going on, Aedan? You collapsed out of nowhere, and have been sleeping for more than a day. That's not normal."

Aedan shrugged. "Perhaps my dance with death had more lasting effects than we thought."

"Perhaps..."

"Might you lower the verbal abuse against Morrigan?"

"What? I know you fancy her but-"

"She is only eighteen. She can't deal with the only people near her, likely the first impressive ones she's ever met, treating her like an arcane horror."

After the shock from the information cleared, a smile played across the mage's lips.

"While that is a point I assure you I will consider, I think you should know that an arcane horror is actually the technical name for the corpse of a mage animated by a demon of pride."

"Also, I fancy her."

"You-you what!?" He almost kept himself from shouting. Almost. He whispered the next part, "But your _mistress's_ body is barely cold!"

The memory of Anathea made his chest ache, each heartbeat brought a pain like a blacksmith shaping a lump of iron by slamming a hammer into it with all his might. He was stunned for a few seconds and wanted to stop talking, but _something_ compelled him to keep going.

"You worry too much. Besides... Anathea is dead. Nothing can change that. I made her a promise that I intend to keep... But that promise... How do you talk so much, Daylen?"

"I have a lot to say. Normally. Not as much now as occasionally, like the time when... Ah. I'm doing it again."

"At any rate, you can be at ease. I'm not planning on taking her to my bed-or bedroll, as the case may be-any time soon. Nor am I in a position to pursue such idle fancies as love. Actual, or Court."

Daylen looked blankly.

"I suppose you wouldn't understand the joke there, would you."

"I am simply worried that your fancy for that witch will color your judgement of her. Make you blind to her schemes."

"Daylen."

"Yes?"

"I was fifth in line to the throne of this kingdom. I know a scheme when I see one. And I'm looking at one _right now._ "

"And you still fancy her?"

"Of course. She's exactly my type, excepting the ears. I prefer them pointy."

Realizing something was wrong, Aedan abruptly changed subjects, confiding, "I've been saying too much recently, as I am now. Daylen, arcane advisor, advise me. What manner of magic makes the tongue wag more freely?"

"Excepting booze?"

"Unless you think me drunk."

"It could be blood magic then, to influence the mind. But blood magic is rarely so subtle and so quickly effective in the influencing of the mind. The Scrolls of Banastor tell us-never mind. Don't let the chantry hear this, but it could be a very special version of a type of weakness spell, or... Older magicks. Ones I am eager to find, now that I am free of the Chantry and the Templars. But in your case, in theory I should be able to detect the magic upon you, unless I am being specifically targeted to not see it, a possibility, certainly. Well, I'll give you my super duper deluxe anti-spell magic package, just in case."

"Will that affect Morrigan negatively?"

"That's the plan. She won't be hurt, per say... But I once tested this on a very strong apprentice of mine, Godwin was his name. Well, he was fifteen at the time, and now he looks to be about forty five. Took him 9 months to figure out how to conjure a gout of flame again, poor lad."

There was a tiny gasp of disbelief from beyond the stick and leaf shelter and then a mad flapping of wings.

"Compete bogus, obviously," Daylen said quietly. "Godwin was forty when he became apprenticed to me, he was utterly average, and it only took him two weeks to regain his mana. Still held a grudge though. Don't see why he would, he's been there so long, what's two weeks?"

"Daylen."

"Of course. I didn't want her hearing this. You have a spell upon you designed to make you more agreeable. It's undoubtedly blood magic, and so powerful that I could almost taste it when I discovered it. Flemeth's work, likely. No doubt she expected me to find this. Once again, it is likely I am the only mage in Fereldan who could dispel this. Maybe Orlais, too. Maybe more. In theory, the Grand Enchanter, leader of all the Circles, could, but the position has become a decidedly more political one in recent ages. I'm getting side tracked. My point is, I don't like what those two have up their sleeves. Obviously you will need to do something at some point that you do not want to do, she is clearly hinting this. I assume it is a double bluff, but I suppose it could be a triple bluff. If she thought I wouldn't see it, then I'd think they need you to be agreeable. But she must have known I'd see it, so she wants me to know that, or wants me to think she wants me to know that... But I gain nothing by thinking that, they either will use you or they won't, thinking they will couldn't hurt us, I don't think... In any case, why she _wants_ us to know, or what that thing will be... I don't know, but it seems they cannot force you to do it. We have a chance. Now, I will remove the magic. Witness the spell combination that put Godwin out of commission for two months!"

"It was two weeks, before. And you sound like an idiot."

"Perhaps. But what is the point of having magic if you cannot make ridiculous pronouncements while performing a ritual?"

"I do not know. I want this spell off me. I can't stand this! Hurry, before Morrigan returns."

"Alright. Let me get this shelter out of the way, can't have it interfering."

A blast of telekinetic force sent the lean-to flying, and a second blast uprooted the dead tree it was built with.

"Now, Aedan, stand up. First, an antimagic burst to purify the area."

Aedan felt invisible power wash over him from the end of Daylen's staff.

"Now for the true ritual. Forgive me if I don't want to speak the names of the spells and their order. This is powerful magic, and a stroke of sudden sheer genius on my part. A thousand years of experiments might not yield a result as powerful as my sudden enlightenment; there's no point risking it falling into evil hands, is there? Or perhaps I am bragging just a bit."

Daylen began layering enchantment over enchantment, not just upon Aedan, but the entire area. The magicks swirled and hissed at each other, as if they wished to fight over which was the better spell. For the first time, Aedan saw a spell as something alive. A scary thought. The magicks seemed to hold the very world in disdain, and they plied no effect, but did not dissipate. They were waiting for something. If it did not happen soon, Aedan feared what might become of him. No mysterious dark strength could prevent pure energy from annihilating him. He understood now, partly, why Templars feared mages. But he trusted Daylen would not work a spell beyond him in such a causal fashion.

"And now, we coax the magicks into forming a certain glyph of neutralization. Some forced, some tricked, others led, others bribed. Soon, they assemble... And create an infallible area of reality! All magicks are broken!" Daylen shouted unnecessarily and very ridiculously as he slammed the butt of his staff onto the ground so hard the wood bent.

The magicks had all banded together through the glyph, and as one had created a visible sphere around Aedan.

Daylen let out a long sigh, and said admiringly, "Damn. This ritual is sexy as ever. It just works so completely perfectly."

Aedan looked at him like he was out of his mind, but Daylen chose not to acknowledge him.

"Technically, within that sphere is an utter vacuum of magical energy, drawn to the edges by the glyph, and expelled. The spell affecting you should have no choice but to be ripped from the space," Daylen looked utterly exhausted, but proud as anything.

"Technically?"

"Yes. But magic is an exercise in exerting one's own will upon reality, making it bow to your machinations. Thus, magic is an inherently inconstant art. Even the very fundamental laws of magic have been broken once or twice. So I say that technically within that sphere, magic is being drawn out by the glyph. And that is what is happening, but it is not truly what I believe is happening. Philosophically speaking, I would say that within that sphere, the immutable laws of the physical realm hold eternally and unfailingly true. The magic I used, the secret art I invented-it is merely a way to perfectly administer my will in this very particular manner. If my will were different, perhaps that anything within that space be incinerated, the ritual would be entirely ineffective. My will in this case is that reality is unchangeable within that space. Anything magical has no choice but to remove itself, because my will was executed in such a perfect way. Technically, the first explanation is true. But my belief holds power, and it is simultaneously true. At any rate, that damnable magic afflicting you is losing its hold. My will is unbreakable iron. Without its owner here, directly challenging my control of the anti magic zone, the spell compelling you to act without inhibition has no choice but to capitulate. It is not nearly strong enough to ignore my will. Ah, it already begins to run. Of course, this does not really have very much at all to do with anything, I am merely killing time. There it goes. Feel inhibited again?"

Aedan simply looked at Daylen.

"Understood. I will release this magic. It is so burdensome. I find myself, however, wanting to rub it in the swamp witch's face. Ah, good; she comes. I will hold it until she arrives. Teach her to respect her elders."

Aedan said nothing in response. He was clearly far more inhibited, or so Daylen hoped. He was mostly certain everything had gone according to his plan.

Morrigan walked close enough to see the dim white sphere of magic surrounding Aedan, and breathed in shock.

What in damnation was that horrible, awful, utterly wretched sphere? Was this the spell the very mention of which sent her flying into a tactical retreat? She, of course, realized he must be lying at least somewhat, and came back as dignified as possible. She had not expected such a spell, had not considered the Circle mage capable of such power. Of course, her mother had cast no magic upon Aedan, so it was wasted, but it was none the less impressive.

She walked closer to the two, looked at Aedan, and half smirked, half smiled, hoping to elicit some sort of reaction from the man.

He looked at her with an indecipherable look, and nodded slightly in acknowledgement of her arrival.

Her confidence in her... everything, instantly plummeted along with her stomach, though she managed to keep it from bleeding onto her face.

She suddenly started questioning everything she knew about Aedan's opinion of her. Her mind was reeling, thinking fragmented thoughts, frantically trying to readjust to this... nod.

Was that all she was worth, now that Daylen proved so strong? A nod? She had come to expect he would at least greet her with kindness, if never gentleness or affection. He had invited her on this insane adventure of his own free will, hadn't he? Hadn't he? Could Daylen's spell have really ejected a spell her mother placed on him in secret? One that really had lowered his inhibitions? That was impossible, surely. She would've noticed her mother casting such a spell. Right?

"Do you like it?" Daylen asked her.

What? Like what? This spell... it was clearly far beyond her capabilities. Perhaps if it were a similarly ranked entropy or primal spell... No. She knew no combination of spells that were its equal in power. Not even close. She felt the brutal sting, the deep bite, of failure. She spent her entire life devoted utterly to magic, only to be trounced, floundered by a casual ritual a _Circle mage_ cast, of all things. It was almost too much to bear. This was more than a spell. This was a slap to the face and a punch to the gut, and it wreaked havoc on her immature emotions.

It must have shined into her normally incorruptible visage, because Aedan had put a concerned look into the corner of his eye.

 _I am not so weak as to let one failure_ _slow my progress. I already know what I must do._ _My mother and Daylen are merely_ testing _each other with spells I can't even dream of casting yet. Blast and damnation! I am_ not _to be ignored._

"You needn't worry, Circle dog. I am thoroughly impressed," she said through clenched teeth, anger hiding her utter disappointment in herself. "I know powerful magic when I stare directly at it."

She smirked a little too forcefully. "Unfortunately, this magic is useless in a fight. My most basic freezing spell is more helpful."

She congratulated herself on not flying off the handle, neither allowing any tears to let themselves rise to her eyes, though she felt some try, nor allowing herself to give in to rage, shouting at her rival, though she very much wanted to.

"Agreed. But it's done an excellent job releasing Aedan from whatever blood magic your mother worked upon him."

Morrigan had not thought Daylen daring enough to outright state this, and was momentarily caught off guard.

"Aedan." She addressed the man in the anti mage sphere with a serious tone, one she could only hope he would believe, as she was indeed telling the truth. "Know that whatever 'tis that was done to you, by my own mother's hand or some unknown other's, I had no knowledge of the act."

Aedan stared her down, and though she kept the blush off her cheeks, Morrigan couldn't keep her heart from beginning to race, letting her momentarily forget her self loathing. Those few times Aedan looked, unwaveringly, straight into her eyes, she was filled with a myriad of emotions. Most notably among them, firstly the irrational fear that he saw inside her mind, and secondly, rampant, unburdened lust. She was very attracted to his power, but more so to his strength of will, his unshakable determination. The determined look in his eyes at once made her knees weak and her womanhood dampen to prepare to receive him, or so she was led to believe by the books she had read, and it sent her mind spinning, making sure there was no way he had figured out her plan. Plans, now.

If he was aware of the sudden new moisture in the vicinity, or the paranoia in her head, he made no mention of it. He simply stared for a few seconds longer, before saying gently, maybe even in some attempt to comfort her, she desperately considered, "I don't disbelieve you."

 _And once again it is impossible to know whether he is being wise, kind, or foolish. I fairly assume he will at least_ _have the common decency to_ _choose one, but even that is not certain._

"'Tis all I ask," she replied with a genuine smile of gratefulness.

Aedan saw that the witch's feelings of disappointment in herself and her other feelings of hurt were draining out of her face, and was glad. She was much more pleasing to look at when she was not hiding what she was feeling.

"We're burning daylight," Aedan said. Though it was still nearly pitch black, he could tell the sun would soon rise. "Break camp, eat on the road, resupply in Lothering."

There was no argument, and Alistair was the first to begin silently putting out the fire and gathering their things. He had not spoken since Flemeth's hut, and it was clear the death of the Wardens weighed upon him heavily.

How lucky, thought Aedan, that he has the luxury of not needing to lead others, and can remain silent.

Daylen dissipated his magic, and the group had erased all evidence of their camp just as the sun began to light the forest again.

"So that's what you meant," Daylen remarked as they started towards the imperial highway. "I'm still not used to," he gestured around himself, "outside. I was worried you might have been injured somehow, talking about burning daylight while the stars were still out. We could've had breakfast in camp if we'd started even earlier."

Aedan nodded.

They reached Lothering at about midday, but they were stopped by robbers just before they left the highway and entered the town. Now that was an amusing confrontation.


	8. Chapter 8

Lothering was to the right of the highway, but a group of six of men in leather armor blocked their path. The body of a dead templar lay crumpled on the ground, pushed off to the side of the road.

"Look alive, men. More travelers to attend to," said a dark haired, wiry man who seemed the leader of the group.

"I dunno, boss, these ones don't look like them others," warned a significantly less cunning one.

"Don't be foolish. The one in the middle looks to be the leader. Greetings, travelers!" the leader exclaimed happily.

"Highwaymen. Preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I suppose," Alistair said helpfully, speaking for the first time in a day, it seemed.

"They are fools to get in our way," Morrigan stated. "I say: teach them a lesson."

"Now, now, is that any way to greet someone?" the leader chastised, completely unconcerned. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You'll have to pay a toll to get past us. A simple ten silvers, and you're free to move on."

Daylen tapped Alistair on the shoulder and asked, as unconcerned as the highwayman, "I don't fully understand. We didn't have much use for coin in the Circle. Ten silvers... Is that a lot?"

"For us?" Alistair answered, more quietly than Daylen asked. "Not really. For freeholders? It's a lot, but they're likely to have it. For servants or farm hands, other refugees... It's probably more coin than they've ever seen at once."

"I see. They don't deserve to live," Daylen concluded. He moved closer to Aedan's side, though still behind him, and raised his voice.

"You should listen to your friend," Daylen suggested. "We're not refugees."

"What did I tell you?" the un-cunning one said. "No wagons, and this one looks armed!"

"Nonsense, Hanric!" the highwayman leader argued. "The toll applies to everyone! That's why it's a _toll_ , and not, say, a refugee tax."

"Oh, right!" Hanric remembered happily. "Even if you're no refugee, you still gotta pay!"

"You're _toll collectors_ then?" asked Daylen incredulously.

"Yes, for the upkeep of the imperial highway!" the leader concurred. As an aside, he added, "It's a bit of a mess, isn't it?"

"Yes," Daylen agreed. "Dead bodies everywhere!"

His eyes narrowed, and his tone grew vicious. "You could at least throw the corpses you've murdered and robbed off the side of the road. That's the custom of Fereldan, is it not?"

The head outlaw shook his head and dropped his cheery tone as well. "My, you've figured us out. We're not really toll collectors."

Daylen scoffed, positing, "Obviously. A newborn kitten struck both blind and dumb could have worked that one out for itself. Here's my proposal: we don't pay you a thing. You hand over everything you've stolen, right now, and we'll let you die a painless death."

The man scoffed right back at Daylen. "I have a counteroffer: put up no struggle, we ransack your corpses, but the slutty black haired apostate stays with us. It's lonely, being a toll collector."

The bandit had obviously forgotten about Aedan, silent as he had been.

Before Morrigan even had a chance to freeze the criminal into solid ice, his forgetfulness was instantly amended by the point of Aedan's blade on his throat. He swallowed, and his adam's apple was cut on the enchanted metal.

" _Which_ black haired _what?_ " Aedan demanded, with a tone that brooked exactly no quarrel, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

The once confident highwayman immediately began sweating bullets. This blade was obviously not ordinary. He had to choose his words carefully.

"The woman whose robes are falling right off of her ti-chaste bosom," he corrected himself. Morrigan instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, covering herself. "Her outfit just looks very... witchy."

Aedan made no comment.

"L-look," the bandit started pleading. "We would be ever so grateful if you would not kill us. We-we-we we're just trying to get _by_ , before the darkspawn get us all!"

Daylen couldn't help but snort. "Get by? You're a criminal!"

The man threw his hands up in surrender.

" _Yes!_ I'm a criminal! I admit it! I _apologize,"_ he confessed in a decidedly insincere tone.

Aedan breathed heavily out of his nose.

The criminal's head was on the ground before he even felt pain.

In an instant, two more heads rolled.

The rest tried to run, but Muttlie tackled one to the ground before ripping his throat apart, and Morrigan froze the other two solid in their tracks.

Aedan issued his commands, "Alistair, take what's not too heavy or bulky, leave the rest. Daylen and Morrigan, check if the armor is near about your size."

Morrigan protested as Aedan himself began divesting the leader's corpse of its armor. He himself wore only Chasind clothing, at the moment, his previous armor not surviving Ostagar. The one person who didn't need this armor was Alistair. Alistair's splint mail armor had seen better days, but it still resembled armor, and would likely grant better protection than any of the armor the corpses were wearing. The Templar's plate armor would be excellent protection, but it was fitted specially; he could not just take it.

"What?!" Morrigan shouted. "You cannot honestly expect me to wear these ridiculous leathers just to protect my _modesty!_ I care not for what others think of me. Besides which, my clothing is _enchanted._ It makes me stronger. Wearing this armor would be detrimental to my fighting ability! I refuse to wear it."

Aedan had already stripped to his small clothes, put on the leathers, strapped it securely to himself, and had retrieved a set for Morrigan by the time she was finished shouting at him.

He looked at her strongly for a second, before he said in a tone that, despite being very serious, somehow belied his amusement, "You were outed _instantly_. This is more convincing than your... robes."

Daylen, who had also stripped in the middle of the road to put on the armor and currently had Alistair strapping it to him, decided he could contribute to Morrigan's embarrassment.

"And even if _you_ don't care about men staring at your 'chaste bosom,' Aedan nearly took that guy's head off without hesitation. That might be problematic if the next one _isn't_ a criminal."

Morrigan wasn't finished trying to get out of putting the armor on.

"But... Where... Can I change?" She asked Aedan, frustrated.

Aedan realized she was almost certainly not wearing small clothes, and looked around to find a secluded spot.

There were several overturned carriages, but they were all torn to pieces, totally see through. There were several crates, but they were all of different size, and could not be stacked easily. On the right of the highway was Lothering, but on the left was an abandoned field, open but private. The only issue was there was a fifteen foot drop to the bottom, and no easy way back up, unlike the stairs on the right.

Well, he could probably jump fifteen feet while carrying a woman with the help of his power. Probably.

'Nothing else for it,' he thought to himself.

He held the armor out to Morrigan and said, "Hold this."

She grabbed it uncertainly, but before she could ask his plan, he put his right hand on her back.

She froze up at the unexpected contact, and Aedan took her legs by the back of her knees with his other hand, deftly sweeping her off her feet and into his arms.

She made a noise of surprise, and Aedan told the other men, "Don't look," before jumping off the side of the highway, his mysterious ability letting him land safely. As he landed, he allowed his arms to continue dropping for a few feet, easing the sudden stop for Morrigan.

"That was... most unexpected," she told him after he set her down. "But not entirely unwelcome."

Aedan faced the highway, making sure his fellow Wardens did not attempt to sneak a peak. Morrigan faced the empty field as she disrobed.

After far too long, several minutes, he heard a resigned, muffled, "I require your assistance."

He turned to face her, and almost could not believe his eyes.

Morrigan had partially disrobed, leaving her skirt on, only attempting to put on the chest piece first. Unfortunately, she was completely inept at doing so.

Morrigan had managed to shove one of her elbows deep into one arm of the chest piece, trapping it, and her other arm stuck straight up out of the collar, along with the very top of her head. She was completely stuck. Additionally, she had turned to face Aedan, and the amount of the piece she managed to shove on only barely covered her breasts.

More muffled words came from the chest of the leathers.

"I... I'm not sure what happened... I was just suddenly... stuck," the voice said, upset, frustrated, resigned, but not necessarily embarrassed.

Aedan was starting to think that maybe the reason Morrigan normally wore so little on her chest was not that she was unwilling to wear more, but that she was unable.

He heard a noise of frustrated resignation, "Uggh. And now I look the _utter_ fool. At least the Circle monkey and the Chantry fool are not here to see this. Aedan, please, do something. I had not wished to ask for your help, but I have tried everything. I did not know what else to do."

"You must do exactly as I say, and nothing else."

"I... understand."

Aedan loosened several straps, which did only a little.

"Tell me if I'm hurting your arm or shoulder," Aedan ordered.

He decided first to get the arm out of the collar. He lifted the leather up, carefully, so he did not hurt her hair stuck inside, and soon, her head became unstuck.

However, this freed the most sensitive parts of her breasts to the cold Hinterland air, and they were most pleased to be free of clothing.

"Aedan," she started, at the height of calmness. "Don't look down."

Somehow, he fought the irresistible urge to do the opposite.

"Try to put your arm back down through the collar," he told her. He helped fold her arm properly.

As she did so, he said, "Don't put it in the arm of the leathers, just drop it down by your side."

As he said this, he looked down to where he was referring, and caught a definitive glimpse of two somethings, pink and adorable, before they disappeared under the edge of the leather. He absently noted that her naked body would likely be one of the more beautiful things in Thedas.

He helped her free herself from the rest of her ensnarement, and soon her beautiful face emerged from the collar.

"That was most uncomfortable," she said in her relief. She glared at him and said, "I blame you for making me do this."

"Not done yet," he reminded her, as he turned her away from him, her arms still trapped by her sides.

He pulled the armor straight up off her, and for a brief moment admired her back.

"Arms up," he ordered, and when she obeyed he was only momentarily distracted by the sight of the edges of her breasts brought into view by the movement of her arms. By how much of them he could see from behind her, he was able to guess that her normal loose robes did a remarkable job hiding just how impressive her bust actually was.

He put the armor on down over her, and strapped her in quickly and efficiently. He looked her in the eyes and said, "I trust you can put on the skirt yourself?"

Morrigan flushed at the perceived slight and spat out a vicious, "Of course I can. I am no child. 'Tis not my fault the design of this armor is completely ridiculous."

Aedan did not feel the need to mention that Daylen had no issues with the armor, despite the fact that he had never worn any either.

He turned around and waited for her to finish, and when she did, he picked her up again and jumped straight up with all his hidden power, easily landing back on the road.

"Finally," Daylen said. "What took you so long?"

Aedan glanced at Morrigan before he said, "Armor had an issue. I fixed it."

That seemed to satisfy Daylen, and Morrigan shot Aedan a grateful look.

They began to walk down the stairs when Alistair spoke up.

"Wait a moment. Before we get in there, there's something I'd like to talk about."

"Oh?" Morrigan said, clearly in preparation to begin mocking him. "You've finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like... too much trouble, I take it?"

Alistair looked fairly angry. "Is my being upset so hard for you to understand? Just what would you do if your mother died?"

"Before or after I stopped laughing?" she answered. She may have even been serious.

"Right, very creepy, forget I asked."

Daylen defended Alistair, "He's just lost a lot of people he cared about. It is only to be expected he not be as present as he could be. We can't all be like Ae-"

"What did you want to talk about, Alistair?" Aedan interrupted. He wasn't looking forward to explaining how everyone he ever knew was dead. The chances Fergus made it out alive... were slim. After everything else, though... He was almost glad his brother didn't live to know his wife and son were murdered in cold blood.

Morrigan gave a small laugh. "His navel, I suspect. He certainly has been contemplating it long enough."

"Now that we've made it to Lothering, I _thought_ we ought to talk about where we'd like to go next," Alistair corrected.

"We should listen to news, but the Dalish clans will assemble the slowest," Aedan suggested. Of course, his suggestions were normally taken as law by the others, for their own various reasons.

There were no arguments, and the band entered the town.

There were hundreds of refugees stuffed into tents, and hundreds milling around, and most of them had been robbed by the bandits blocking the road. After Daylen had given away two hundred silvers to refugees who were doomed if they stayed in Lothering anyways, Aedan forbid him from using money he didn't fully understand the value of. Morrigan, too, did not understand the value of anything, really, but she was not in danger of donating away their supplies, so Aedan did not find it necessary to include her in the ban.

They were heading to the tavern to find out the general situation of the country, but Daylen said he had something to do in the Chantry, so they split up. Alistair and Daylen went to the Chantry while Aedan, Morrigan, and Muttlie headed to the tavern.

When they stepped inside, they were startled to discover a unit of soldiers, all in steel armor. They were obviously drunk and obviously hands-y, and the one in scale mail, likely their sergeant, was the drunkest and hands-iest of them all.

Aedan, as a lover of fine ladies himself, had always had _issues_ with men who were too free with women, and especially the ladies of the tavern. Gave honest gentlemen like him a bad name.

A growl emanated from deep in his chest when he saw the sergeant grab the barmaid's ass and refuse to let go as she tried to wriggle free. The soldier pulled her onto his lap, reached right into her shirt, and started squeezing. His other hand began groping her stomach and started to inch its way down to her groin.

The barmaid was a pretty girl, maybe a few years younger or older than Aedan, chestnut brown hair pulled back in a ponytail that reached her shoulder blades. She wore blue eye shadow and hot pink lipstick, a popular fashion several years ago. She reminded him a lot of one of his lovers who he'd seen killed in Highever Castle. She had been one of many women whose corpse he'd found next to naked with obvious signs she'd been gangraped before her death. The thought sent him into a fury, and the similarities between the situations were too obvious for him to let the perpetrator live.

The poor woman was freaking out, shouting and struggling, but no one was willing to defy an entire unit of armed and armored soldiers.

Aedan noticed in the corner of his eye a red haired woman in a Chantry robe begin to move just before he stormed over to the bastard.

In an instant, Aedan wordlessly grabbed each of the molester's forearms in either hand and ruthlessly crushed his bones into pieces, easily imprinting the steel scale gauntlets with the impression of his hand while he removed them from the woman's sensitive areas.

The sergeant immediately started screaming in unbelievable pain, the soldiers under his command too stunned to do anything but gawk. Aedan ignored the soldier for a moment, lifting the woman off the incapacitated military man as easily as lifting a pan off a fire.

He tried to put her down, but she was so terrified of Aedan that she couldn't stand on her own.

He held her close to his side for a moment while he flung the screaming bastard from the seat, before putting the barmaid on it.

The entire tavern was completely silent, stunned at this superhuman display of strength.

Aedan walked to the sergeant, and unsheathed his sword.

"What can you say in defense of your honor?" he asked the screaming man, who continued to scream.

He looked around the tavern.

"Will anyone speak in defense of this man's honor?"

No one spoke.

The screams stopped.

The other soldiers looked shakily at each other, and one bravely said, "We won't let you get away with murder!"

The brave soldier got a closer look at Aedan and suddenly became angry.

"Wait a minute... You're a Grey Warden, aren't you! I recognize you, from Ostagar! You led the king into a trap! You're a traitor!"

Aedan's eyes narrowed before he spoke, very slowly. "We followed the Teyrn's own strategy. It was the Teyrn who led Cailan into the trap and it was the Teyrn who left him there to die. The Grey Wardens could do nothing."

"Lies, slander! Prepare to meet justice, traitor!" The soldier yelled, rallying his compatriots.

Aedan felt bad for these fools, tricked into believing Loghain's lies. But he would not let word get back to Loghain that Grey Wardens survived Ostagar. They had to die. The rest of the tavern... Unfortunately none of them were likely to survive.

He gave them a sort of last rite before they came at him and he slaughtered them.

"When you strike me, know me for a mirror, as you yourself are struck. And when you meet your Maker, know that it was you who brought death upon yourself."

The soldiers did not attack one at a time like fools. They circled him, and true to his word, he did not strike any of them before they struck him. They were annihilated in seconds all the same.

After the fight, talk eventually returned to the patrons, though it was slow goings.

He saw the Chantry robed woman from earlier glancing nervously at him, and he approached her, Morrigan following awkwardly behind.

"You were going to help her?" He asked, realizing her beauty as he did so.

"I, erm, yes, I was," she answered. "I am Leliana, lay sister of the Chantry here in Lothering-or, I was."

Orlesian, strong accent, but not too harsh. She'd been in Fereldan for a while, now. At least four or five years, at his best guess. She was hiding from someone or something in Orlais, he was sure. One does not move to a small town in the middle of a foreign country just to become a Chantry sister.

Aedan saw the nervousness in her face, accompanied by anxiety, but also, eagerness. He could also see several daggers hidden in her robe in various places, and so he was certain she was no mere sister.

"How do you fight?" He asked.

"With a bow, if I can," she replied quickly. "I can hit a copper piece every time at fifty paces, half the time at a hundred. Less than three seconds between shots."

He studied her face more carefully, noting as he did so both her sudden spike in nervousness, and Morrigan's annoyed and angry breathing behind him.

"I heard those men call you a Grey Warden," she broke the silence. "They were right, weren't they?"

He nodded.

"I see. I may not be as strong as you in a fight, but I can pick locks and melt into the shadows. I know that after what happened, you will need all the help you can get. I was wondering..."

Aedan stopped her with a hand, and turned to Morrigan.

"Stealth. Could help."

Morrigan shook her head.

She whispered, "I can become an insect, or a rodent-"

"Too dangerous," Aedan whispered back. "I will not lose a master of primal magic to the underside of an unseen foot."

Distracting and extremely upsetting thoughts of how she was not as skilled in primal magic as Daylen was in spirit filled Morrigan's mind long enough for Aedan to take her silence as consent and turn back to the gorgeous Orlesian.

"If you want to come along, you will need to follow my orders."

The girl looked delighted.

"Of course! I understand completely. You _won't_ regret giving me this chance, I promise."

Morrigan glared at him, but there was nothing she could do. She whispered angrily, "I wonder how much of this is actually due to her skills, and how much is her _other_ assets."

Aedan resisted the urge to assure the insecure teen he greatly preferred her assets to the sister's.

Aedan walked to the barmaid who remained shocked at recent events but in full control of her mental faculties.

She looked at Aedan's handsome face and despite her fear of his ungodly strength she blushed deeply.

"You... I... Those blood stains on the floor will never come out..." she lamely complained.

Aedan put his hand on her shoulder and warned her, "If you stay in Lothering, you will die. The horde approaches as we speak. It will be a week or less. Head for the bannorn, or somewhere North of here. Tell everyone you care about."

He reached into his pack without looking at her shocked and afraid expression, before pulling something out and placing it in her hand, curling her slender fingers around it when she seemed unable.

She glanced at her hand and saw a yellow glint between her fingers, and her eyes widened in shock.

This wasn't just a lot of money. This was her very life he had just given her.

She glanced back up but her savior was already leaving. She ran to him.

Aedan was planning to head to the chantry, but a hand on his arm turned him around, and then his head was pulled down, and then lips were on his, and not chastely. A tongue shoved itself past his lips, though he could tell it did not know what it was doing. Out of instinct, he guided it in the kiss, before all the horrible memories came flooding back and a wave of nausea and huge amounts of sound forced him away from the woman's admittedly very soft lips and tongue.

He could hear every noise in the bar. Every breath, every finger tapping a table. He could hear Morrigan's unconcealed fury in her breathing, as well as Leliana's unconcealed arousal.

The barmaid looked at him, seemingly unaware of his distress, and every word fired through his skull like a cannon.

"You have saved my maidenhood and also my life. I have nothing to offer you but what you have given me."

Aedan did not smile, but a gentle look came into his eyes. Morrigan must have taken his silence as consideration, and her fury grew immensely. Aedan found this interesting. It was not as though they belonged to one another, or had ever even been intimate.

"Your name," he said to the woman.

"What?"

"My price is your name," he clarified.

He saw disappointment in her eyes but she told him, "Amelia Avery."

He nodded and turned to leave, but she stopped him again.

"Maybe someday I can repay my debt fairly. What is your name?"

He leaned down to her ear and whispered, "I am Aedan Cousland. And Arl Howe has stolen Highever amidst a sea of innocent corpses. Do not go there."

And then he left the tavern.


End file.
